


Tov V'ra

by Rasalahuge



Series: The Fruit of the Tree [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: ALL THE ANGST, Angst, Backstory, Biblical References, Child Death, Emotional Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Heavy Angst, Historical Inaccuracy, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Murder, Origins of the Trickster, POV First Person, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Suicidal Thoughts, The Tree of Knowledge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-15 00:50:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4586739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rasalahuge/pseuds/Rasalahuge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All people have a story; all stories have a beginning and an end.</p><p>The end of the Trickster's story we already know but what of it's beginning? Gabriel wasn't always a bitter, sarcastic Trickster. Once he was one of the Lord's Archangels, a weapon of Heaven and defender of Justice and Righteousness. This is his story, told in six parts, from Archangel to Trickster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Curiosity

  


Curiosity.

It had always been a huge part of who I was. I’d never had cause to regret it before. How could I in that innocent, carefree world we had before? I didn’t realise that in a new, darker world curiosity would prove to be a failing as often as a triumph.

Let me make this inescapably clear. I fought in the war. I was one of the first to sign up in fact, after Lucifer irreversibly corrupted the human race and war was declared. Not because I wanted to fight my brother, no even then the very thought disturbed me, but because I believed it Just and Right. _God is my strength_ , the humans eventually named me and that was how I lived. I fought and I watched as sibling after sibling fell. As more and more humans were taken to Hell and turned into demons. I didn’t question, not then. Not until my beloved brother was locked in a Cage for the rest of eternity and we were left to pick up the pieces did I think to ask **why?**

I didn’t understand. I didn’t know what had driven my brother to such lengths. I didn’t know why humanity had turned away from my Father and theirs. I didn’t understand and there was no one I could ask. In the aftermath of the war even an archangel was afraid to ask questions.

For years I kept silent. For years I let that single question eat away at my heart.

Then two human cities crossed a line.

Sodom and Gomorrah were everything wrong with the human race after the war. Rape, murder and torture were everyday occurrences, celebrated rather than reviled. All the worst of humanity in two cities. We might have left them alone except then two angels on Earth for duties completely unrelated were assaulted, saved from rape only by the one virtuous man left in the city. Michael lost his temper and so did the rest of the host of Heaven. Yet it was I who was sent to cleanse those cities.

When I left it was with the same sense of justice and righteousness as I went to war with, any question of why quashed deep below the memory of my traumatised siblings.

By the time my hands and robes were soaked in blood I felt only sick.

These humans, sinful, disgusting humans had no idea what was going on. No idea why they had to die. It didn’t make any sense. Surely they, as all humans, had the understanding of good and evil the Tree of Knowledge gave? Surely they knew what they were doing was wrong and they would be punished for it? Yet they ran screaming from my blade. They pleaded for their lives, begged to know why. Most of them went to hell with no idea that they had been condemned for their sins.

I stood in the stillness and listened to the birds singing the dawn. The birds didn’t care that thousands of humans lay dead in the streets, in their homes. The birds didn’t care they were sharing this dawn with a killer.

And I still didn’t understand why.

I felt sick at the sight of the corpses I had left lying in the street and I wondered where my conviction had gone? These people were sinners. Weren’t they? Why did I mourn their deaths? Why did I even care? I had carried out my duties as required, hadn’t I?

I stood in the ruins until the sun rose, until time and the heat began to make the bodies stink of rot. I stayed until my brother started to worry and came to find me. Michael looked around the ruin and nodded approvingly. Raphael came over to me to check I wasn’t hurt.

“Is he well?” Michael asked.

“He’s fine,” Raphael said frowning at me, “Why did you not return immediately?” my brother, the healer, asked. I looked at him utterly convinced that the blood that soaked my vessel had stained my irises too. Then we heard it. A child’s cry.

“It appears as though you missed one brother,” Michael said and gestured to two of their entourage to investigate. It wasn’t long before they dragged a human boy, no more than nine years old over and dumped him at our feet. He was sobbing and pleaded, just like the others, to be saved.

I looked to my brothers and saw only contempt in their expressions.

“If you wished to live you might have been wiser in your choices,” Michael informed the boy. I met a pair of brown eyes, filled with tears, and knew he too had no idea why he and his family had been condemned to death. I wished I knew why.

“Come on Gabriel. Finish this so we can go home already,” Raphael huffed impatiently and I knew in that moment I could not do it. I could not kill this child for a sin he didn’t even know he had committed. I could not do it and that terrified me.

“I am weary. I have spent all night destroying sinners. You do it,” I spoke up for the first time since I had landed here. Raphael huffed impatiently while Michael laughed as though I had made some clever jest.

“Very well brother,” He said. Before anyone could even think to speak Michel drew his sword and slew the child without a thought. Then he turned and clapped a hand to the back of my neck. “Come on my weary little brother. Let us go home,” He said cheerfully and with no other option I spread my wings and followed him back to Heaven. I didn’t look back at the desolation we left behind, I didn’t dare.

It didn’t take me long to realise that something wasn’t right. The boy’s grief filled eyes haunted my thoughts as did the expressions of casual dismissal on my brother’s faces. It was clear they saw nothing in those events that was worth dwelling on as I was. No matter how many times I told myself they were only sinners and they deserved their fates I could not shake that one question. Why?

My brothers eventually noticed my distraction. Raphael was the first to ask what was wrong and, unable to stop myself, the question that haunted me spilled from my lips.

“Why did they not realise? Why did they not understand? They ate of the Tree,” Raphael seemed concerned at least. Although it seemed he cared more because the questions were clearly upsetting me than because of the humans.

“I do not know brother,” Raphael frowned, “perhaps they simply did not realise we would care enough to punish them? Or perhaps they have forgotten us and simply did not know what you were,” He paused and narrowed his eyes at me, “I should not worry about it Gabriel. We have not eaten of the Tree after all, it’s probably nothing. Humans sin. We just have to make sure they don’t stray too far,” It was not the answer I wanted or needed but it was the only one Raphael would give.

Michael came next, his expression hard but not yet angry.

“Raphael tells me you are having doubts about those two cities,” He said, not quite close to accusing yet, but close to.

“Not doubts exactly,” I was quick to assure though Michael’s expression did not relax. “I just don’t understand them,” I shrugged trying to make it appear as a passing curiosity rather than a desperate question. “They ran from me in fear, I expected that. I didn’t expect them to look at me with no understanding of what was going on. No understanding of why they were being punished. They know the difference between good and evil,”

“It is not an easy thing to do. To see Father’s greatest creation corrupt itself,” Michael sounded like he was trying to be reassuring but it just left me uneasy. “But don’t let them fool you Gabriel my brother. You are right, they ate of the Tree. It led them to sin but it also means they know when they sin. If these ones were confused it was because they did not expect to be punished for their actions.” Michael stepped away then so he could spread his wings and fly. However before he left he paused for one last comment.

“You are a good angel Gabriel. Your compassion is one of your greatest virtues. However you must be careful not to let the humans use that against you. I do not want to fight a war against another brother,” Michael probably meant that as friendly advice, perhaps brotherly concern. As he left however I felt only cold.

The third brother didn’t find me, rather I stumbled across him. After my unsettling conversation with Michael I felt more lost and confused than ever. I wandered through Heaven, my mind plagued with questions. I practically shook with fear that someone would notice there was something wrong with me and tell Michael. I had concluded that must be it. There had to be something wrong with me. I wondered if this was how Lucifer felt before he left us. Alone and confused and just looking for answers that would never come. Of course Lucifer didn’t fear as I did. He had nothing to fear for before Lucifer questions weren’t a crime.

The thoughts wouldn’t leave me alone. I walked and walked and walked; never quite daring to pray for guidance. I could not, not when I knew Michael’s opinion and did not know my Father’s. I walked until I literally stumbled over one of my brothers sat watching humanity from a little trod corner of the Garden.

I yelped in surprise. He let out a stream of apologies. After I blinked a few times and focused on the angel I realised he was waiting to be punished.

“Uh, sorry,” I murmured getting an astonished look from the angel. Apparently we archangels aren’t in the habit of apologising to angels. “I should have been looking where I was going,”

“I should be the one apologising Archangel Gabriel,” my little brother ducked his head respectively in a grave tone, “For getting in your way,” That sounded like something Michael or Raphael would say, admittedly, but not me.

“Maybe that would make sense if I was going somewhere in particular and you were sat on a major thoroughfare or something. But I’m not – going anywhere in particular I mean, and you are kind of out of the way over here,” I shrugged, embarrassed.

The angel stared at me, clearly confused. In that moment I felt such a strong kinship with him that I couldn’t stop myself from dropping to sit beside him. If angels were as confused by archangels as I was by humans perhaps talking with this little brother would help me.

“Castiel right?” I asked as the angel continued to stare, “Nice spot you have here.” It _was_ a nice spot, shaded by the trees of the Garden behind us yet open to the sky and the long drop down to Earth. From here I could see the mountains that would one day be known as the Himalayas stretched out with India beyond and China to my left. If I leant past Castiel and tilted my head westwards I could see as far as the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, slowly tearing two continents apart. It was buried under kilometres of water but a detail so insignificant had never stopped an archangel before.

“Huh, I didn’t know this place existed,” I turned to Castiel, “Do you come here a lot?”

“When not attending my duties or spending time with my friends,” Castiel was quick to answer. As if finding a quiet spot to watch the Earth from was cause to think him shirking his duties? Then again Michael may well have jumped to such conclusions; I didn’t know what Michael was thinking most days anymore.

“Well obviously,” I scoffed, making it clear that such dereliction of duty hadn’t even crossed my mind. Castiel relaxed minutely.

“It’s peaceful here,” He ducked his head shyly, “Few know it exists and the view… well,” Castiel trailed off, letting the view speak for itself. I smiled for what felt like the first time in an age. Certainly the first time since Sodom and Gomorrah.

“It is something,” I said softly looking back across the world. “From up here you would not think it is slowly being torn apart. Bit by bit. Fragment by fragment,” Humans mined for metals they called precious, tore down forests for their livestock and poisoned the water with waste. Yet from up here you couldn’t see the scars.

Castiel had stiffened again. Humans were a delicate topic these days but I knew I had found a sibling who shared at the very least my compassion for Father’s favourites.

“I guess it goes to show, a little darkness, a few scars…” I trailed off trying to find the right words to say what I felt.

“They don’t detract from the beauty,” Castiel finished for me looking very wary but not at all regretful. My smile widened.

“Exactly,” I pulled my legs up and wrapped my arms around them even as my wings spread wide to cover both of us. “They are beautiful still, despite the sin,” I agreed, “It is just harder to see.” I paused again, “I just wished I could understand them,”

“What do you not understand?” Castiel asked.

“They sin, have done since the Garden. Yet it seems that most of them do not know that. Which should be impossible,” I kept my eyes on my little brother. Kinship and a shared love for the beauty in broken things did not after all guarantee Castiel would not go to Michael with my doubts.

“Oh,” Castiel murmured, his eyes going round in surprise for a moment before his brow furrowed in confusion. “That does seem off. Clearly they must be capable of knowing their sin,”

“Exactly,” I waved a hand for emphasis, “That was the whole point after all!” We sat side by side for a long silent moment, contemplating the conundrum.

“I wonder…” Castiel began and then visibly hesitated. This time I opted for a more direct approach.

“Go ahead Castiel. I won’t punish you for speaking your mind,” I assured him and he bit his lip uncertainly.

“I just wonder if the answer is obvious to them but we cannot possible understand,” Castiel said quietly, “As you said: that was the point after all,” It made sense, I had not eaten of the Tree after all, maybe it _was_ obvious to humans. Except that was effectively what Michael had said. Except…

“We are meant to guide and protect them. Help them at least try and earn their way back to Father’s Grace,” I swallowed, “Yet how are we supposed to do that if we don’t understand them? We can punish them for sinning but what use is that if we don’t know why they choose to sin despite knowing it is wrong?” the words I spoke then could have easily condemned me. Castiel, whether he realised it or not, now held an archangel’s fate in his hands. Michael would not forgive such questioning, even from me.

“That is a problem isn’t it?” Castiel frowned as if the question had never crossed his mind before. “I suppose that if you feel you can’t fulfil your duty properly there is only one option,” My heart froze wondering if this little brother of mine, this kindred spirit of mine had worked out the darkest parts of my heart. If he had seen deep down where a part of me already cried out that there was only one solution. Only one way I was ever going to understand.

“What is that?” I asked somehow, despite the lump in my throat.

“You will have to speak to a human of course,” Castiel smiled, somehow still innocent. “There are some that have earned their way back into heaven after their deaths. Balthazar told me they have their own place in Heaven.” He looked at me with such a beguiling look that the tension lodged like a knot in my heart melted.

“Castiel you are a genius. Thank you,” I said sincerely, already feeling a weight lift from my shoulders even if I was no closer to the answer I sought. I leant over and pressed a kiss and blessing to the crown of his head.

“I am glad I was of service Archangel Gabriel,” He ducked his head in embarrassment.

“None of that,” I chided lightly, “you are just as much my brother as Michael and Raphael. Lose the formality,”

“As you wish brother,” Castiel smiled faintly.

“Now I have to go but I expect I will be seeing you again soon. That is if you can bring yourself to share this view,” I gestured at the Earth stretched out before us.

“I think I can manage that much,” Castiel seemed at least to understand I was teasing, not threatening, him which was something of a relief. I clambered back to my feet and with a quick, but sincere and grateful, smile left Castiel to his solitude and headed in the direction of the part of Heaven dedicated to human souls.

I did not make it as far as that part of Heaven on the first day before being called to my duties. Nor did I manage to reach it on the second, third or fourth. In fact several months passed between my talk with Castiel and finally getting the chance to head to the human part of Heaven. If I did not know for a fact that neither Michael nor Raphael knew of my plan I would have suspected one or both of them conspiring to keep me busy and away from the humans. Perhaps they hoped keeping me busy would keep me from spending too much time dwelling on questions I wasn’t supposed to ask. It didn’t work but I felt some degree of affection for my brothers, afraid as I was, for they were at least trying to help me in the only way they knew.

There were more human souls in Heaven than I had expected. I had known of course, long before Castiel told me, that there were some human souls making it into Heaven despite the sin but there were far more than I ever suspected. Lot, it seemed, was not a unique man in his virtues though I don’t doubt there were far less humans who made the grade than Father would like.

At first I merely passed through the human part of Heaven. In these early days, while there were still so few and none of my siblings had really put much thought into keeping things orderly, each human’s Heaven tended to overlap with his or her neighbours allowing more or less free movement while still maintaining their personal Heaven for whatever peace their righteous lives had earned. Here and there I paused in my wanderings to observe humans interacting but nothing gave me a clue as to what they were thinking, or why they did what they did. In the end, after some thought, I decided that I would find a child to speak to. Children had such a refreshing view on the world and they were far more honest than their elders.

I regretted that decision the moment I stepped into the first Heaven I came across that belonged to a child. I knew something was familiar about this Heaven before I laid eyes on its occupant but I had not forgotten those eyes, brown and pained and broken. My eyes fixed on them and I recognised him in an instant. It was the boy from Gomorrah, the one Michael had slain when I refused.

Here he was, in Heaven.

An innocent soul slain alongside sinners, his body left lying in the street for carrion.

“I don’t understand!” I cried falling to my knees before him.

Innocent. Not a sinner.

How many others?

How many had I slain that night who were innocent of the crimes their entire city was condemned for? How many now resided in Heaven, dead before their time because of me?

Michael would say that the deaths of the virtuous few, who would receive eternal happiness and peace in Heaven, were a small price to pay for wiping out the sinners. I could do nothing but stare at the boy who was frowning at me.

“What do you not you understand?” he asked, “You are an angel are you not?”

“Yes, but this I have never understood,” I confessed, “Why? Why do they sin? Why do they not realise they are sinning? They are human, they know the difference between good and evil, but why do they not understand when they are punished for it?”

“You, you are the one who came to my home and killed everyone?” The boy asked. It should have been impossible for the boy to recognise me, I had been in a vessel then and I was not now, yet somehow he did.

“Yes, that was me. Please. I do not understand,” To my utter surprise the boy did not immediately scream in fear, or attempt to run away or even shout at me for what I had done. He would have had the right, but he did not and it confused me even more. Instead he stood and watched me and thought about it, then his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Well of course there is a difference between good and bad,” He said matter-of-fact, “But did anyone tell them which was which?”

I knelt there, dumbfounded, as the boy looked at me expectantly. He was waiting for an answer, I realised, but how could I have an answer when I did not understand the question.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well Ima told me sometimes when you are angry and hurt other people it makes you feel better but it is wrong to do that because someone else gets hurt. Did the people who did bad things have their own Ima’s to tell them that?” The boy asked and I blinked.

“I… I do not know,” I stammered.

“Well then, maybe that is why they did bad things?” The boy suggested.

“So… so they know the difference but they don’t know which is which so do what makes them feel better even if it hurts another?” That did not make sense to me. How could hurting someone else make you feel better? How could anyone ever think that hurting another was right?

“I guess,” The boy blinked, “If this is paradise where is Ima?” He asked and I swallowed. How did I tell an innocent boy that chances were his mother had been condemned to the Pit? But would she? If she taught the boy the difference between right and wrong and managed to raise him to be a good and kind boy despite the city they lived in then surely she too had earned her way up here?

“I suppose she must be,” I said but doubt lingered in my words, “You will just have to look I am afraid. I am sure some of the others here will help you find her,” I pointed out to where his Heaven overlapped with a holy man who knelt praying despite already having earned his way into Heaven.

“I guess so,” The boy looked disappointed but only for a moment. Then he smiled at me, brightly, warmly, “Just so you know I know it was not your fault, what happened. I forgive you,” He said and then was rushing off to bother the holy man into helping him find his mother. I watched him go dumbfounded.

Why had he forgiven me?

I had not done anything wrong, had I? I regretted, of course, that the boy died but I had been doing the right thing. I had been fulfilling the duties my Father had given me and purging the world of sin. What, then, was the need for forgiveness?

Why did those few words, spoken in honest innocence, make me want to cry?

Rather than feel a weight lift from me the short conversation had left me more confused than ever. I did not understand the boy’s words; I did not understand how one could know the difference between good and evil and yet _not_ know. Now I also had the added burden of trying to understand why he felt the need to forgive me and why, if there _was_ something to be forgiven he had done so. I stumbled back to my feet and fled the human’s Heaven and back towards the Garden.

It was deserted. An unusual state of affairs, normally at the very least Joshua would be here tending to it. Yet even the gardener was absent today. Later I would wonder if that was for a reason but that day I was only grateful.

I did not realise that my feet had led to the very centre of the Garden until I came to a halt in front of the thing that had started it all.

The Tree of Knowledge was a complex thing. It existed both here in the Garden of Heaven but also in Eden on Earth. It grew strong and tall and nothing like any tree that came after. Scholars would argue long into the future on the exact nature of this tree before eventually deciding it was most likely a pomegranate tree, definitely not an apple, but possibly a fig.

It was none of these.

I stood at the foot of the Tree and stared at it long and hard and tried not to let the sneaking thought that had dwelled deep down inside of me for longer than I cared to admit break free to the daylight. I was confused and lost and there was something very wrong with me, I knew that, but the solution wasn’t… wasn’t _that_. There was no coming back from _that_. No second chances, no forgiveness and no trying to turn back.

Yet I knew that I could not continue like this. It was impossible. Every day I pulled further and further from my brothers. Every question I asked only brought more questions and no answers. At least no answers that made any sense. There was no one I could speak to, not without the sort of severe consequences that could easily lead to another war. The thought of fighting against my siblings again left me feeling hollow and cold. Another war… no, I would not be the cause of that. If I was to Fall I would take only myself with me.

Fall.

A drastic thought but really was what I was contemplating any better? Was it not a Fall itself? A different kind of course but no less final.

How was it that I had reached the point where my only two options involved Falling?

Where had the Gabriel gone who had gone to war with righteousness in his heart and a blade in his steady hands?

In that moment stood before the Tree, I had never felt so far from that being.

“Is this how you felt beloved brother? Caught between two impossible choices?” I whispered to a brother who had once, briefly, hung from the branches of this Tree, coils wrapped around a branch and hissed honeyed words into the ear of one slightly naive girl.

I stood and remembered Father’s anger when he learned what Lucifer had done, what Eve had done and Adam too.

I wondered which path he would condemn me for more.

I was frozen on the precipice. Knowing one step forward would be to make a choice I could not reconcile with.

Yet I could not go back.

I closed my eyes.

Curiosity.

In that moment it felt like my greatest weakness. Curiosity was the thing that had caused me to ask that impossible question, driven me to find answers that were not answers and had led me here to this moment.

In the end, I knew, it all came down to one simple fact.

Could I live with myself if I never understood _**why?**_

Before I could stop myself I reached out and plucked a single fruit from the Tree.

I didn’t open my eyes.

The flesh tasted sweet on my lips, like the manna Father had given us.

Then the answer to my question came to me, suddenly, like a thunderbolt.

The aftertaste was bitter.

 

I dropped the fruit and fled, weeping.

For I understood now and, just like Adam and Eve, I wished I did not.


	2. Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the first chapter seemed to have passed by virtually unnoticed. Ah well, never mind.
> 
> Fair warning: This is the happiest chapter in this story, enjoy it while it lasts

I didn’t Fall.

I think that was what most surprised me in those first few frantic days as I tried to come to terms with what I now knew.

I fled heaven the very moment I realised what I had just done. It was only partly horror and regret at my own actions that drove me – a far greater motivator was fear. I knew what I had done, I knew. More importantly I knew what my brothers would do once they found out. Michael would not forgive this.

He _couldn’t._

He didn’t understand – but I did.

I fled to Earth because there was nowhere else to go and hid out in the mountains, too lost, too frightened to even think about approaching a vessel. I huddled there waiting for my fate to find me. I was waiting for Michael to come thundering out of Heaven in my wake. I was waiting for my wings to be struck from me; waiting to feel my grace leeching from my heart. It never happened. I did not weaken and I did not Fall. Michael did not come.

I spent most of those first few days in quiet terror. I knew the moment that my siblings discovered the remains of the fruit, heard the call of alarm in the back of my mind where the voices of the host still echoed. I heard the call for every angel to return to Heaven, to find the one that had done this crime. Fear froze my wings and I could not have moved even if I wanted to. So afraid was I that I felt sick, huddled in the tiny cave, in the dark just waiting.

I knew the moment Raphael and Michael realised that I was the one who had taken the fruit. I heard their anger and pain and I wept for fear and for loss. I could never go back now, I would never be able to even if I wanted that. I wasn’t sure that I did.

Knowing, I found, was an uncomfortable experience but also an unbelievable one. It felt not so much as stepping from a black and white world to infinite shades of grey but more stepping from black and white into staggering, resounding and awe-striking technicolour. Millennia after those cold days on the mountainside I would watch a movie about a little girl stepping from a black and white world into a dream of bright and wonderful colours and I would weep as I saw, for the first time, someone living what I had.

Days passed and I sat silently in my little cave as the entire host scoured the Earth trying to find me. Yet no matter how many angels came, calling my name, a weapon ready in my hand neither Michael nor Raphael left Heaven. It hurt, to know that they wouldn’t even look but at the same time relief swept over me as day after day passed and they never came. Days passed and I didn’t Fall. Slowly the terror didn’t so much ease; fear still gripped my heart, but was overwhelmed by another emotion, another one that drove me to creep from the darkness once the worst of the search for me was done.

Curiosity.

It was that terrible character flaw or wonderful gift that had led me to this moment. I knew now, what I had not before, but at the same time I _didn’t_ know. There was so much to learn, so much to see, a whole world of opportunities that I had never even considered before all driven by that one, all-consuming question. I understood now, what the boy was trying to tell me, why Raphael and Michael’s words had not brought me comfort but I still did not know why the people of Sodom and Gomorrah had acted as they did. So, leaving my little cave, I set out to learn.

I still didn’t dare approach a vessel, we archangels had so few and I knew Michael and Raphael would be keeping an eye on them, looking for any sign of me. Instead I veiled myself and, invisible to human eyes, watched and learned.

I watched humans go out, day after day, to toil under the hot sun to grow crops and keep animals often working themselves to exhaustion just to make enough to keep their families fed. I learned that for most humans’ life was hard, full of toil with little visibly reward despite the hard work.

I watched men lie and cheat and gain both money and influence, finding a way out of that hard toil and into a society where they could laze around all day and set their servants to do the hard work through sin. I learned that there were many rewards in human society for those who sinned and the temptation to do so when your family was starving and you saw other sinners living a life of luxury was great.

I watched women drown their new-born infants because they could not afford to feed another mouth and because the child was not the child of her husband. I learned that a mother could be stoned for being violated because her word was not believed over that of a respected man and she while would rather risk that than see her children starve if she did then all six of them would suffer horribly but if she let one be ushered on relatively peacefully the other five would grow and thrive.

I watched boys, barely old enough to know what sex even was, rape women because their own sisters were held at knifepoint, threatened with the same treatment and cry through it all. I learned that the obvious victims were not always the only victims of a crime and the ones with whom the guilt truly lay were often mere observers.

I watched children of all ages and societies raised to know that the best way to succeed in the world was to sin and never taught anything else. I watched as those children struggled against what their hearts and souls knew was wrong but their mind could not find a way out of. They struggled until they shattered, until that little voice telling them to follow the right path was drowned and they were lost to the life they had desperately but unsuccessfully tried to escape. I learned that monsters were rarely born but often made simply because when they reached out looking for something, anything to guide them from the darkness there was nothing there reaching back.

That should have been us, I knew. When children tried to break free of a life they knew was wrong there should have been an angel on the other end to help guide them back to the Lord. Yet my brothers, still up in Heaven living in ignorance, did not see children reaching out. They saw only sinners needing to be punished.

They did not see. They did not understand. They were, I realised, utterly incapable of it. There was no one reaching back and there never would be. The humans would have to struggle on; alone in the constant fight to earn their way back into our Father’s embrace. When I realised this I came to a halt in my long and frantic search for answers and sat by a well in a small village and wept.

I still had no vessel, I was still invisible and inaudible to human senses; I should have been left alone.

I wasn’t

“Why do you weep angel?” An old woman asked as she set down her urn on the edge of the well. She was looking at me with curious but wise eyes. I know I meant to ask her how she could see me but what I found myself saying was something completely different.

“I weep for humanity,” I answered, “For they are lost in the dark and they try so hard to find their way out but there is no one there to shine a light for them,”

“Do you pity them?” She asked and I thought about it. I still meant to ask her why she could see me and more why I had answered her question when I hadn’t intended to but something about those eyes encouraged me to think.

“Some of them,” I answered, not knowing why, “The ones who never think to fight against the life they are raised in, never think to better themselves. Occasionally I pity the ones that do fight but give up at the first stumbling block, because there is little honour in that,”

“What about those who do fight, who keep on fighting until they shatter?” She asked again and I smiled even through my tears.

“What is there to pity? That they fought so hard that only by shattering them did the darkness win is a triumph in itself,” I replied, “I am saddened that they will not get any reward for their suffering, but that is not mine to control,”

“What would you control, if you could?” The woman asked tilting her head to one side, her eyes sparked with curiosity.

“I would be the light, if I could,” I replied, “Or perhaps I would be the one holding the light for then I would not be forced to stand and wait for them to struggle down the path to me but I could go to them and lead them out of the dark,”

“Your compassion is one of your greatest virtues,” The woman told me kindly, “As is your curiosity. Do not ever let anyone tell you otherwise Gabriel,”

I did not know whether it was some veil she lifted herself or whether it was the name or just the use of the words Michael had once attacked me with but I suddenly knew, then, who I was talking to and why she could see me when no one else could.

“Father,” I breathed. A bolt of pure terror shot through my heart, the fright that Michael and Raphael would find me was nothing compared to this. It was the sort of terror that stole air from lungs; that drove the mind down a deep and consuming whirlpool of emotion. I had feared Father before, but it was an abstract fear soothed by the faith that Father loved me and would not harm me. Now… now the fear lodged in my throat, stole any words I might have said and left me rigid. A frightened rabbit caught in the sight of a snake right before the predator strikes. Except this wasn’t a snake, wasn’t a predator, it was my Father and the contradiction between fear and love _hurt._

I stared at the frail female appearance Father had taken and tried to reconcile it with the Father I had known in Heaven. Not because of the gender, no that was ridiculous Father was no more male than I was it just happened that Father was the closest descriptive term. She created us but she did not birth us, so Father was more appropriate. Rather it was so strange simply because the vastness of Father seemed far too great to fold up into a human form.

“Hello child,” Father said smiling at me but it was not a happy smile. I swallowed heavily as I watched her and tried to think why she would be here, now. Except I knew that didn’t I? Father had gone down and walked with Adam and Eve, one last time before she turned them away forever, even though she had to have known what they had done. I thought about doing as they had, trying to pretend I hadn’t eaten the Fruit but I knew, far better than they, that it was pointless. Father knew everything and she would not be here, now, unless it was to do something about it. There was no point in pretending otherwise.

“Are you angry with me?” I asked, heart pounding, knowing that if the answer was ‘yes’ there was a reasonable chance I would not survive this encounter.

“Why would I be angry with you?” Father asked watching me with emotionless eyes.

“I did something forbidden,” I murmured looking down to the ground, unable to continue meeting those eyes.

“Did you?” Father mused out loud, “Tell me Gabriel, when I forbade angels from eating from the Tree?” She asked and I blinked, turning back to stare at her in surprise.

“I… what?” I stumbled over the words, my mind suddenly blank and confused, “You forbade Adam and Eve,”

“Humans, not angels,” Father answered simply, “Do you know why I forbade them to eat? Why I was so angry when they did anyway?” She asked.

“No,” I admitted, though it was one of the questions that had been bothering me since I too ate the fruit. Why even put the Tree in the Garden in the first place if it was forbidden?

“Because they weren’t ready,” Father explained patiently, “I always intended for humanity to eat eventually but in their own time, when they were better prepared and certainly not when they were tricked into it by another,”

“You banished them from the Garden,” I was even more confused now. Why was humanity punished then for something they were meant to do?

“Did I banish them? Or did I set them free?” Father enquired and I faltered, it wasn’t the answer I was expecting, “Tell me Gabriel would you go back to Heaven now?”

“I can’t, Michael would kill me,” I answered immediately, completely certain, though I was also sure that was not the answer Father was looking for.

“What if I ordered him not to harm you? To allow you to come and go as you please like any other angel, would you return?” She pressed and I met her gaze already knowing the answer, yet unable to voice it and feeling guilty about it. Heaven was my home, always had been but… “Heaven is paradise,” Father answered for me with a knowing expression, “Beautiful and immaculate. Yet as long as it remains as it is you will not feel comfortable there. Besides you have so many questions now, don’t you? Questions for which the only answers lie here, on Earth,” 

“If you do not mind if angels eat the fruit then why not tell them that?” I changed the topic, uncomfortable with it, and Father allowed me.

“Some of them would take such an edict as an order,” She told me, “And knowledge, understanding cannot be forced nor ordered. If your siblings choose this path it must be because they want to choose it, not because I told them to,”

“But they won’t, they won’t choose that path.” I blurted out, “Not after Lucifer,”

“You did,” Father pointed out, “You aren’t the only angel to question ‘why’ Gabriel. Not even the first. You are just the first one brave enough to find the answer. Others will follow, sooner or later,”

“I’m not brave,” I denied trying not to think of which other angel had wondered ‘why’ – and why he had chosen a different path.

“You chose to do something, even though you feared the reaction, in order to better understand humanity. So that you could truly help them rather than merely judge from afar. _That_ is bravery Gabriel,” Father reached over and took my hand in her weathered one, wrapping long solid fingers around my fingers of grace. It was an odd sight to look at, the physicality of human touch against an angel’s true form.

“It was selfish,” I whispered, keeping my focus on the intertwined hands, “I couldn’t stand not knowing why,”

“Perhaps that was part of it,” Father disagreed, “But I know your heart Gabriel. At the root you did this so you could help and for that I will never, ever be angry. Rather my beloved angel I am proud,”

“But I sin now,” I looked up, uncomprehending.

“Yes,” Father answered, “But do you know what the difference between a sin and doing the wrong thing is?” I blinked; confused yet again and realising this was going to be a common feeling especially in conversations with my Father.

“No,” I admitted and Father squeezed my hand, surprisingly strong considering her apparent physical weakness.

“When you sin you understand what you did, you can learn from it and most importantly you can _do better next time_. You will sin Gabriel, because that is the nature of the Fruit, but you will also learn from it and grow. _That_ is why Lucifer, despite his questions, couldn’t bring himself to eat and only tricked Eve into it. He could not bear the thought of knowing and understanding that his actions were wrong,”

“So what do I do?” I asked, desperate for some kind of guidance in a far too confusing world.

“You live Gabriel,” Father said simply, “You live and you sin and you try to do better. If you do that, if you learn and grow from your mistakes then I will _always_ forgive you. I will always welcome you home in the end,”

I could not have held back the tears that came at those words if I had wanted to. I had not even realised angels _could_ cry in their true forms but as pearly tears of pure grace spilled over our entwined hands I felt the knot of fear deep in my chest ease for the first time since I took the bite. Father was not angry with me, she was not disappointed. Rather she _wanted_ me to sin if only so I could learn and grow and become _better_ for it.

“What about Michael and Raphael?” I asked weakly through the tears.

“With time, and a good example to follow, they may come to realise that to be a sinner is not to be condemned,” Father answered, “Until then I will make sure they know not to harm you,” Father promised and I sobbed, just once, leaning over to bury my head in her neck. She reached up with arms that were both strong and yet frail and embraced me, wings and all. In that moment I felt her all-encompassing love filling every part of me, forgiving and kind.

We sat like that, entwined, for so long I lost track of time. After my tears dried my mind felt quiet and still, waiting I suppose though I do not know what for. I just knew I didn’t want to leave that warm and safe embrace. Yet as time passed it dawned on me that I had to let go. I couldn’t put a finger on why I just knew that as much as I adored Father’s warmth and wished to remain there forever I could not. I had to return to reality sooner or later. It was then, as that realisation came to me, that I understood what Father had been trying to tell me since the moment she sat down next to me.

“I’m all grown up now aren’t I?” I asked out loud slowly easing from the embrace, “I don’t need you anymore,” I looked up at my Father and understood then that her eyes were not emotionless – they were sad.

“Yes,” She said simply and my heart ached in sudden sympathy. “Oh Gabriel,” She smiled at me, “Do not worry yourself for me. I am sad, yes, but also happy. You are grown up now and do not need me anymore but I could not be prouder of the person you have grown into. A more wonderful child I could not ask for. All children grow up eventually and it is the job of a parent to let them go when the time comes,”

“What if I don’t want you to let me go?” The question escaped my lips before I could think the words through, “Maybe I don’t _need_ you but you are my Father. I will always _want_ you in my life,” Father’s smile softened and, to my surprise, brightened. She leant back in, close to me, and pressed a kiss to my forehead that sent a feeling of warmth flooding through me.

“You won’t lose me Gabriel, not because of growing up,” She promised.

“And you won’t lose me, not ever,” I promised in return.

“I am glad,” Father said and pulled away fully this time, her hands dropping back to her own knee. Her smile changed then, turned from something impossibly warm to something almost mischievous. “Now I just have one last question,”

“Yes Father?” I asked, wondering what the question might be even though I knew that was what she wanted me to think about.

“When are you going to take a vessel? Interacting with people will be difficult when you are both unseen and unheard,” I recognised her expression then. Father was teasing me. I flushed, or I would have if my true form had blood vessels.

“Well I was trying not to catch Michael’s attention as he is almost certainly watching them for any sign of me,” I explained, “But, I guess, if he wasn’t trying to kill me…” I hesitated because Michael was not the only reason I was avoiding my vessels.

“But it seems unfair,” I explained, “Most vessels we use for a few days, a few months at most, and then they can go home. Unless, of course, something catastrophic happens,” That was a rare event, but not unheard of. “I can’t do that. Going back to Heaven isn’t really an option but I can’t steal someone from their life for years… decades even. That would be wrong even if they did consent,”

“That is a problem,” Father agreed, “So let us fix that,” She said and I watched in amazement as she snapped her fingers, just once, and a body appeared lying on the floor before us. I knew immediately that this body, human though it was, was a blank slate. No soul, no memories, no brain functions even if it was healthy in every other way. I studied the figure, a middle aged male, somewhat plain but solidly built with white skin, golden hair and sightless brown eyes. It didn’t look like me, was far more masculine than I had ever considered myself to be even though I had tended towards the male pronouns when forced to choose. However I was far too grateful then to question my Father’s choice.

“Thank you,” I whispered still studying the body.

“Thank _you_ Gabriel, for being yourself,” She pressed another kiss to my head, caressing my wings just briefly. Then she was gone and I was left alone by the well with an empty vessel.

For a long moment I didn’t move. I just sat there trying to absorb everything that had just happened, everything I had learned. However just as I knew I couldn’t stay in my Father’s embrace forever I also knew I could not spend eternity sat by this well. I had a life to live, things to learn and things to pass on to humanity. Father had praised me for doing this to help humanity and so I would help them, as best I could.

I poured myself into the empty vessel, filling every crevice, every cell. Muscles came alive under my control and I blinked new eyes. I stood, testing new limbs and my new senses. I looked into the water of the well, curious as to my new reflection and saw that my presence in the body had turned plain brown eyes into ones that seemed to glow golden in the light. A glimpse of what I truly was locked away inside the flesh.

With a smile I raised my fingers, a sudden idea coming to me.

I snapped, just once, just as Father had done.

Then I was gone.

This time when I ran it wasn’t away from anything, not from my brothers or from Heaven or from my own fear. Rather when I ran this time it was towards something. _Towards_ life and freedom.


	3. Purpose

“ _Please don’t do this,_ ” I whispered, a heartfelt plea I did not care to hold back. “ _Please you are better than this,_ ”

My words fell on deaf ears.

“We have a deal,” The demon smiled cruelly, red eyes burning bright and bloody against the dark skin of its stolen face. “Now to seal it,”

I watched, determined to do so, to not look away as this once-virtuous woman sold her soul away to the eternal torment of the Pit. This was my fault, I knew, my inability to help that had caused this. She hadn’t asked for much, the money to feed her family, but I had refused. I wished now I hadn’t.

I wept as I witnessed the kiss that sealed her fate.

The demons looked over her shoulder, cruel and victorious and oh so arrogant. I had never wanted so desperately to destroy a creature before yet I didn’t. I stood there as the demon granted the woman her every last wish all for one small, simple price – her soul, to be collected by Hell in ten years’ time. It knew I was here, of course it did. I was an angel still, an archangel even, and I had no need to hide from the forces of Hell.

The deal done the demon left and the woman returned home leaving me stood there, weeping silently for yet another soul lost to Hell because of me.

Another angel might have blamed the woman for her greed but I knew desperation when I saw it. I had been watching her and her family for days, ever since I had come to her village as a traveling storyteller, and I had known then how desperate she was. I could have helped her, should have helped her, but I didn’t. I held my miracles in reserve, not daring to perform too many, and the demon had taken ruthless advantage of that.

Too many demons had taken advantage of my failing in the years since I had eaten from the Tree.

I took each failure to heart, a lesson to learn from and do better next time and yet the next time came and I seemed to fail in all new ways.

When I had started I was free with my miracles. I had no reason not to be. I wanted to help and so often it was desperation that drove people to even more desperate solutions. Yet the miracles hadn’t helped, not really. Oh the virtuous were encouraged to remain so, but their neighbours grew ever more jealous and their envious thoughts turned them away from the light. Then the virtuous had grown used to the gifts, too comfortable, too confident in their right to be rewarded until they were no longer virtuous and when the miracles stopped they found other ways to satisfy them.

I had learned to hoard miracles for very special cases but that too came with problems and a long list of failures. People didn’t want to hear stories about rewards in Paradise, they wanted rewards _now_. They wanted tangible things that proved to them that they were doing the right thing – especially in the face of others getting rewards for doing the _wrong_ thing.

I had learned a great deal in this scant handful of years I had spent on Earth, more than I had in the centuries and millennia that came before, yet one thing stood out beyond anything else. Humans were rarely content.

No matter how good they were, how kind and virtuous and gentle, there was always something _more_ that they searched for. They could not put a name on it but I could. I knew, after all, what they had lost when they left Eden. They had lost Father, had lost that connection to the one who had created them in the first place. Yet I also knew that the connection wasn’t gone, just lost, and it could be found again. After all, my connection to Father hadn’t faded for all my failures, I could still find that warmth and love that had enveloped me the day by the well when we embraced. It was one of the few comforts I kept, that every time I failed I reached out for it, sharing with him the failure and what I had learned from it and how I would _be better_. In return I knew, in my heart, that Father forgave me.

Humans couldn’t find that connection, not anymore. They had forgotten how to look. I tried to help them find it again, and for all my failures were many there was some success too. It was just hard to remember that in the wake of yet another failure.

It was long hours before I left the crossroads and the site of yet another failure. I did not return to the village, there was little point anymore, and instead I turned to wander south contemplating what I had done wrong this time. I could guess but I didn’t have the heart to examine it in more detail – not tonight. I was weary and hurt with a feeling of pervasive loss as I thought about the woman and her family.

She had a baby, less than a year old. It was a little girl who would grow up beautiful but who would lose her mother to Hell far too young.

But then who was to say that if the mother hadn’t sold her soul the baby would have grown up at all? The family had been starving and the weakest were always the ones who were lost first.

Nights like this one were always hard; they were also the nights when I felt most alone. Just after a failure, before I was ready to reach out and admit my fault to Father, when I wished desperately for one of my brothers to come and reassure me that it was alright. The search for me had been called off, I knew, I had heard it in the back of my mind not long after Father had left and I knew that the promise he made had been kept. Michael and Raphael had been ordered to leave me alone and they had. I had not seen nor heard from them in all the years I had been here and they had not ventured down to Earth. I didn’t fool myself into believing that they were not keeping an eye on me as I wandered across continents, telling stories and hearing them in return, but they left me alone.

Sometimes, on these dark, lonely nights when I was full of doubt and recriminations, I wished they didn’t. Even if they came only to shout and throw their anger and disappointment at me I would be better than wandering and dwelling on my failures.

It was nights like these that I wondered if there was any point in my self-professed mission. If there was any sort of purpose in saving humanity one person at a time. For so long, in Heaven, I had known what my purpose was. I had known my duty to my Father, to my siblings and to Creation. Now I told myself that I had chosen this life for them, to help them, but every time I did it tasted ever bitterer on my tongue. Archangel I might be but I could not save humanity by myself.

I came to a halt, my eyes gazing up to the stars above. I could, if I wanted, shift my eyes away from the physical and peer between the fabrics of reality to gaze upon the gates of Heaven but on that night it felt a little too much like beating an already broken horse. Instead I watched the stars twinkle and dance and let myself appreciate the beauty of them.

Then I realised that it wasn’t just stars I was looking at, but angels. Dozens of them, flying down their focus on something to the south and west of where I stood. The look on each of their faces was a familiar one, it was a look I had worn myself, the look of someone bringing so-called righteous justice to sinners. My heart leapt in my chest and a lump formed solid in my throat. Somewhere, someone had earned the wrath of Heaven. Without even thinking about it I spread my wings and flew. 

I landed in Egypt, just outside the city the Pharaoh called his own where the people my Father had chosen were kept in slavery. I had avoided Father’s chosen people, they had guidance that others didn’t and they were far too carefully watched by my brothers. Yet now I stood and watched as dozens of angels walked the streets of the city, silent and grave, they went to each house in turn. Some they turned away from, others they entered.

Even from a distance I could feel the lives being snuffed out. I saw angels going through the fields, culling herds and striking down working animals. A few even seemed to be destroying crop. Heaven was laying waste to Egypt and I could only think of one reason why that would be.

“Tell me _sinner_ , why I should not strike you down where you stand?” A voice intruded and my heart thudded painfully as I turned to face my brother. Raphael’s expression was dark and dangerous, bitter with anger. His blade was held casually in his hand, a warning but not yet a threat.

I wanted to weep. It was barely an hour ago that I had wished for my brothers’ presence, wished for their comfort as I considered my own failure, but even if I had wished it I had known it would not be possible. Raphael was as absolute as Michael; he would not forgive me anymore than Michael would. Here and now, facing him, I genuinely feared that Father’s word alone would not be enough to spare me despite knowing that neither Raphael nor Michael could ever bring themselves to disobey a direct order.

“Father said…” I tried, because it was my only defense and Raphael snarled furious and brilliant. I swallowed, retreating some steps from him.

“The likes of _you_ do not get to speak of _him_ ,” Raphael snarled at me, the blade jerking upwards, “Why are you here?” He demanded and I swallowed.

“I saw the host; I wanted to know what was happening.” I hesitated, “What has the Pharaoh done to earn Heaven’s wrath?”

“That is none of _your_ business,” Raphael snapped, “Leave sinner, now,”

“Killing them won’t help,” I tried.

“He was given the opportunity to avoid this,” Raphael said though it wasn’t clear if he was still speaking of the Pharaoh or of me, “He didn’t take it,” _That_ for example was definitely a warning and a warning I would take to heart.

“As you wish,” I bowed my head, taking my eyes from my brother. Raphael huffed in disgust and moved passed me, being extra careful I noticed not to touch any part of me, vessel or true form. As he passed I turned and watched him go. He was making for the Pharaoh’s palace and I knew that whatever was happening here Raphael was the one in charge of seeing it through. Michael no doubt was watching from Heaven.

I almost left then. I had no intention of earning more of my brothers’ ire than necessary however something caught my eye, or rather someone. One familiar angel who had just left a house was sitting down, his expression haunted. I knew who it was, even in the vessel. Castiel was the one brother who had seemed to understand me and who had, indirectly, pointed me in the direction of this life. He looked as I had felt, those final months in Heaven, as if he was starting to see that this was wrong even if he couldn’t put it into words.

I remembered how lost and confused I had felt, how desperate I had been for guidance or at the very least someone to listen and not judge. I ignored the part of me that said not to annoy Raphael further and instead went down into the city and to the angel who I owed a great debt to.

As I approached Castiel looked up sharply, alarm already on his face as he thought for a brief second he had been caught not carrying out Father’s work. Then his eyes landed on me and widened in shock and hurt.

“ _Gabriel_ ,” He gasped and I felt a sharp sting in my heart. It had been so long since someone had called me by my name, not since I had last seen Father. Raphael, I realised suddenly, had only called me ‘sinner’.

“Hello Castiel,” I smiled sadly at him, “Are you alright?” I asked because he didn’t _look_ alright. His entire frame stiffened and the look of shock was swept away to painful angelic neutrality.

“I am fine,” He replied, voice just as stiff as his body.

“You do not look ‘fine’,” I pointed out and Castiel’s eyes narrowed. I realised that probably that wasn’t the best way to approach this conversation and so switched tactics before he could reply. “But if you insist then of course you’re fine,” I tilted my head to look up at the house Castiel had just left. It clearly belonged to one of the native Egyptians, a well-off one at that. “What did this family do to earn Heaven’s ire?” I asked letting my eyes drop down to meet Castiel’s.

“Why do you care?” Castiel asked instead and I shrugged.

“I’ve always cared Castiel,” I answered, “That was the problem, you see, I cared too much and I could not understand,”

“So you chose to join them instead,” Castiel’s eyes were hurt and angry even if he was valiantly trying to keep his expression neutral.

“I chose to understand,” I replied.

“Do you regret it?” Castiel asked.

“No,” I surprised myself with the answer. I know I regretted it in the first instance but my conversation with Father had put aside most of my doubts and I knew now I could not have lived in ignorance, not while remaining myself. Still… “It’s not ideal, it hurts all the time but I do not regret any of it,”

“You sin,” Castiel accused and I shrugged again.

“But I can learn from that, be better, and be _more_ than just a sinner.” I told him, “I can serve our Father and sin; the two are not mutually exclusive. I can help better like this,”

“Better?” Castiel’s eyes narrowed, “Your success rate would not agree with you. How many humans have you driven into the arms of demons?”

I flinched, the question hitting me hard and true. It was not a question I had expected, not from Castiel at least. It was unfortunately painfully true and even more so on this night. I closed my eyes and fought back the overwhelming sense of failure that accompanied the words.

“I’m _trying_. I’m doing better, learning from my mistakes,” I insisted but I knew that wouldn’t be enough, not with Castiel. He might be able to see the beauty in broken things, he might have been a kindred spirit, but he didn’t understand. He couldn’t. He didn’t reply to my words, he didn’t have to. I could feel the weight of everything he didn’t say dragging my wings down.

“Will you at least tell me what is happening here?” I reached desperately to change the subject. My eyes flickering open, “Please Castiel,”

“The Pharaoh refuses to let Father’s chosen go free. He has been asked several times, agreed and then changed his mind before anyone could leave,” Castiel said, “This is his final warning. Tonight every first born in Egypt will die, plant, animal or human. All of them. Tomorrow he will let the Israelites go or the rest of Egypt will follow,”

I felt sick.

It was Sodom and Gomorrah all over again.

Heaven was angry and the humans, innocent or not, were paying the price.

This was _wrong_.

It was sickening, disgusting and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. Nothing.

“Castiel…” I breathed, “This is wrong. This… no… this is…” I stopped, swallowed and continued to stare at my little brother in horror, “You have to see it. There are no words for how wrong this is.” He had to see it but I knew he couldn’t. He was incapable. “How is this justice? How is this right?”

“The Pharaoh was warned,” Castiel said flatly but I heard the waver in his voice. He might disagree with my life choices but he wouldn’t be out here, sat on a bench, if he thought this was right.

“No. _No_.” I whispered, “Castiel what have these people done that they are punished in the Pharaoh’s place? _He_ is the one refusing to let the chosen go not them. Why are they the ones dying for what he has done? Castiel this is wrong.”

Every word I said, every question I asked made Castiel flinch. He didn’t have the answers, of course he didn’t. Heaven didn’t have answers for those sorts of questions, it was absolute.

“They are sinners,” he defended but it was a poor defence and we both knew it.

“Yes they are,” I told him, “But most do not deserve this. If humanity must be punished for being sinners then the punishment must always fit the crime. Otherwise it isn’t justice. _This_ isn’t justice.”

My words seemed to break something in Castiel, crack through some invisible barrier containing his emotions. His wings flared, angry and vicious, as he leapt to his feet and glared.

“What would you have me do?” He demanded, “Would you have me doubt every order? Question every decision? I am not _you_ Gabriel, I don’t _have_ that luxury. I am an angel and I serve my Father in the way he has dictated to me. To question… to question would be to Fall.” He swallowed suddenly afraid as if even that much would call down the wrath of his superiors on him. I wished that such fear was unfounded but I knew all too well that it wasn’t.

“I haven’t Fallen,” I said instead and he suddenly looked afraid.

“So that is it? The reason you’ve searched me out, of all the angels in Egypt this night you have come to me. To what? Ask me to join you in sin?” He shook his head. “And what would we do Gabriel? Wander the Earth? Try to bring _justice_ to humanity? Watch as we drive more humans into the arms of demons in the attempt?”

“What value is there in such a purpose?” A new voice intruded and we both froze. The voice wasn’t one I recognised instantly, which meant it wasn’t Raphael, but it was clearly an angel. 

“Naomi,” Castiel said turning in the direction of the voice and bowing. “I…”

“You were just dismissing a temptation,” Naomi said plainly, her voice cold but filled with false understanding. “Do not worry Castiel; I heard enough to know that you at least are loyal,”

“You did overhear the part where I said I’m not Fallen don’t you?” I said tightly, this angel might be Castiel’s superior but she was a long way from mine, “I am still an archangel Naomi. Maybe it’s not your best plan to insult me when I’m stood right here,”

“What insult is there when I speak only truth?” Naomi retorted, “Do not think yourself unnoticed, sinner, we _all_ know of your desperate and doomed attempts to prove your actions to be justified. You are sad and lonely and a failure, wandering without purpose. Fallen, perhaps not, but you are a long way from an angel and I will not stand by as you corrupt another,”

I tried not to let on just how much her words hurt but I knew that I failed in that when her eyes sharpened with smug superiority. I had suspected that Heaven was watching me but to know it wasn’t just my closest brothers but all of them… They all knew of my failures and it seemed all were willing to use them as weapons against me.

“Corrupt?” I laughed bitterly, “I suppose that depends entirely on your point of view.” Naomi looked ready to argue but I cut her off, “No, no, don’t argue I know I won’t persuade you otherwise, not until you open your eyes to a field of blood and wonder how you could ever think murder is justified even if it is done in Father’s name.” I looked back at Castiel then. “You are wiser than you know Castiel. When you find the courage to seek out answers I will be there to help you through it. Count on that.” I swallowed, “I may lead a purposeless life but I will _never_ lose sight of what justice should be. I will _always_ be certain that the punishment fits the crime,”

With that I left. There was no reason to stay. I didn’t look back to see Castiel’s expression and I didn’t look back to see how Naomi would take those parting words. I hoped that I hadn’t just made things worse for Castiel, I did owe him, but I would stand by what I said. I would help him, if he asked for it.

I paused for a moment just outside the city, where I had encountered Raphael. I could see now what I hadn’t before, the pattern to the killings. One or two people from every household, except those that were obviously where the slaves lived. The oldest of this year’s calves, the first wheat to have sprung from the ground. As I looked I grew more and more disgusted until I had to turn away.

Maybe my life was without purpose, maybe I was just trying to justify what I did but at least I wasn’t murdering innocents in Father’s name.

Across my mind flashed a memory, a desperate woman selling her soul to save her family.

I winced.

Or perhaps not I thought. I tried to fix things, tried to help people, and more often than not failed them. Was it enough that I learned from my mistakes and never made the same one twice? Or was driving innocents into the arms of demons no better than what Heaven was doing right now? I started to see how humans could be driven mad trying to work out what the right path was.

“If it was easy then no one would learn from it,” A voice interrupted and I nearly jumped. Too many people had snuck up on me that night and as I whirled around to see who it was this time I was cursing myself for not paying enough attention. Then I realised just who had spoken and any words I might have said to that effect died on my lips.

Father looked tired. This night he was wearing the form of a young Egyptian boy clearly in deference to what was happening here.

“Father,” I whispered, unable to stop myself from staring, “Father what is happening here?”

“Your brothers ran out of patience,” Father replied his voice sad, “And the Pharaoh refused to listen,”

“And you just allowed it?” I asked, my heart aching. Father looked at me then with eyes too ancient and too impossible for me to comprehend.

“Allow? Gabriel, child, you know it is never as simple as whether something is _allowed_ or not.” He replied, “Your brothers do not understand what they do is wrong. I could tell them to stop every time and every time they will obey and then come back to the same method next time something like this happens. They will keep doing that until someone shows them a better way,” With that he looked at me and I felt my heart sink.

“I’m not doing so well with the ‘better way’,” I said bitterly, “I just seem to make things worse wherever I go,”

“Not all of those were your fault Gabriel,” Father told me kindly, “You’re doing well, even if you can’t see that. You are learning from your mistakes, which I believe is the only thing I asked of you,”

“You have too much faith in me,” I muttered.

“I am your Father, I have just the right amount of faith in you,” Father answered smiling sadly. “You have just lost your faith in yourself. I know it’s hard Gabriel, but you can do this,”

“I’ll try,” I said quietly, “You know I will, I’ll always try. I just… I don’t know _how_ ,” My methods weren’t working, that much I knew. If they worked I wouldn’t have so many failures and so few successes. If they worked I would not have faced condescension and anger tonight when I faced my siblings. Father looked at me with a knowing expression.

“So we will find a new method.” He said considering, “I can’t always be the one to visit Abraham’s children, there is far too much to do, and I clearly can’t send one of your siblings,” He gestured towards the city, just a glow in the distance. “I am in need of a Messenger Gabriel, one I can trust.” He paused, “I won’t order you to. You have your own life now,”

“I’ll do it,” I said without a single second thought. “Father I want to serve you. I want to help the humans. I want to help my family,”

“Very well,” Father said, “In that case you need to visit Moses,” He said nodding back towards the city, “They need to leave before the rest of the city wakes up. The Pharaoh will change his mind again, though this time it will take longer, long enough for them to get away if they leave now. Direct them towards the Red Sea; I’ll do the rest,”

“Yes Father,” I said and without hesitation I took flight and turned back towards the city.

I had a purpose again, one that would help both humanity and my siblings. Yet as I flew something in my tugged at my heart – I could show my siblings a better way. I could show them that I could still serve our Father even as a sinner but if they were incapable of learning from their mistakes, incapable of seeing that they were even _making_ mistakes how was giving them a better example going to help? It had never helped with any of the humans I had tried to save and they _could_ understand their mistakes, it just made them envious.

I choked down my doubts, refusing to listen to them. I had a job, a purpose and I would be helping people rather than constantly failing them.

I refused to acknowledge that I was willfully blinding myself to the truth.


	4. Loneliness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Long chapter ahead.

Being Father’s messenger was amazing, I was helping less directly than I had before but the impact my words were having seemed to reach much further. Father mostly sent me to talk to Prophets, to help them bring his word to people but now and then there were others I spoke to. Ones he had specially chosen to inspire, to lead and Father, unsurprisingly, was a far better judge of character than I was. His chosen people, Abraham’s children, grew in numbers by the day and though I could not be certain without going to Heaven I would not have been surprised to see more and more of them passing through the Gates.

I felt as though I was finally doing something worthwhile, something helpful.

But I should have listened to the warning of my heart that dark, bitter night in Egypt.

“ _Sinner_ ,” Malachi hissed as we passed one another, me on my way to visit the most recent Prophet, him on some unnamed mission from my brothers. I did not react, pretended not to hear him, and carried on my way.

The word however hammered at my heart and chipped off another fragment.

I finally felt as if I were doing something worthwhile. Yet I had never felt so alone.

During the years I spent wandering it had been relatively easy to avoid my siblings. Now as I spent more time around Father’s chosen it became almost impossible not to come across them. Each encounter was a blow to my heart, a blade cutting into me leaving me gasping in pain. Most of them were like Malachi, content to just throw that word in my direction and leave it to do all the damage. Others were less kind. Some blanked me completely, as if I didn’t exist; others looked at me with pity, secure in their sinless lives. Raphael never failed to take the opportunity to tear at me with words and with blows. Oh he couldn’t do much damage, not really, not so long as Father’s order for my protection remained in place. Yet Raphael took pleasure in tripping me, in provoking others to take a shot, even to strike me himself if I opened my mouth to speak in his presence.

I knew he was hurt. I knew he blamed me for not being stronger, for not being the brother he wanted and needed. But each blow, each barbed insult, just seemed to further the gaping space between us.

Yet Raphael wasn’t the one who hurt me the most. No. Not even Michael, who it seemed was going out of his way to avoid me completely, hurt me as much as one did.

When I saw Castiel flying towards Jerusalem I had felt relieved. He was safe, he hadn’t been cast out and if my words had earned him punishment it was clearly long over. I had diverted slightly, hoping to at least offer him a smile and a greeting. This brother, I thought, would at least allow me that much. He had understood and no matter the words he had spoken in fear and guilt and anger I knew he was the most like me of all the host. Yet as I came closer I knew something was wrong. Castiel’s eyes flickered towards me and then they darkened slightly and the younger angel turned away, purposefully changing directions so he would not come close to me. It was worse than the biting words, worse than simply ignoring me.

The pain of that wound bled for a long time. 

I tried to tell myself that it would just take time that they just needed to get used to me being there, helping and doing my duty. They just needed to see me being strong despite my failings and they would realise we were not so different.

I did not however believe it. How could I? We were different, my siblings and I, in a way that could never be reconciled; not unless they too chose this path. As the years passed I became less and less convinced that they ever would.

I was fairly sure Father thought the same.

Every visit with him became shorter, every message accompanied by an ever more weary smile. When I started as his messenger he would ask for my stories, ask where I had been when not passing on his word, who I had met and what I had learned. Not that he didn’t already know but he liked to hear it from me. As time passed there was less and less time for stories yet the time between messages became ever greater.

It seemed even Father was at a loss as to what to do about Heaven.

“Do not blame Castiel,” Father murmured after the episode that broke my heart, one of the few times Father had the time to spare to hear my stories. “He is not in a good place.” Father sighed running his fingers through my hair affectionately, his eyes distant, “Michael has authorised… well perhaps its best you don’t know what exactly it entails. Suffice to say Castiel does not remember your conversation in Egypt, and the conversation you had in Heaven has been… twisted in his mind.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, my heart aching even more. It seemed that Castiel had paid for my words and in the worst way possible.

“He blames himself for what you did,” Father said sadly and I found myself blinking back tears.

“Father they aren’t getting better, they’re just getting worse,” I choked and Father pressed his lips to my temple.

“Michael and Raphael are afraid. They don’t understand and are afraid of how the world is changing. They drag the rest of your siblings with them down the path of fear.” I knew that, of course I did, but that didn’t change the fact that they were dragging Heaven down a darker and darker path. I didn’t say anything more; I knew Father would not elaborate. Whatever plans he had he would not share with me, not yet.

So instead I wandered once more.

I always went when Father had a message for me but between them I wandered. There were many people, not lucky enough to be of Father’s chosen, and who needed help. My failures still outweighed my successes when working alone but it eased the crushing pain of being reviled by my brothers and the slow realisation that it would never change. I was an angel alone, an angel and a sinner and my heart told me whatever Father’s hope Michael and Raphael would never follow this path.

It was while I was wandering that I met _him_ ; far to the north where the world was carved by ice and wild in a way unlike the dry but cultivated land of Father’s chosen. I liked the fjords, they were breath-taking and they reminded me of the ice that once swallowed this whole area. Ice was irreversibly tied in my mind to Lucifer, as cold and treacherous as each other but just as stunning. It shouldn’t have surprised me then when I climbed from the fjords into the mountains to where the last of the ice clung to stumble across someone who would one day hurt me almost as much.

I met the man camped at the foot of one of the glaciers, a fire warming his hands while he was wrapped in a blanket made of wolfskin. He had already lost an eye at that stage but his hair had yet to go from dark to silver. He was lean and wary and brought to mind the wolf whose pelt he had taken, patient, clever and a predator through and through. I ignored that however, it was a human instinct to be wary of a predator not an angelic one – after all we had no natural predators. We weren’t even part of the food chain, given that we didn’t eat. Instead I approached him, curious as to why someone would be out here alone; for all that he clearly wasn’t human.

“Ho there traveller, it is cold and the night draws in quickly. May I share your fire?” I asked and the man looked at me.

“Greetings stranger and be welcome,” He replied his voice rough. He watched as I moved to sit opposite him by the fire. “This is a harsh land to be travelling with alone and without supplies,” The man himself, though not human, carried supplies as if he were one. A large bag made from deer pelt sat to one side, full of everything one might need.

“What need have I of supplies?” I answered, not caring to pretend I was human, this man clearly knew I was not. I would not have made it this far without some kind of supplies. “Anything I have need of I can just create,” I snapped my fingers and created an illusion of an apple, bright red and juicy. I bit into it and smiled at the man.

“An impressive trick,” The man said his eyes hungry. I snapped again and created another apple which I tossed to him.

“As thanks, for your fire and your company,” I said and he bowed his head, graciously. “Do you have a name traveller?”

“I am Odin, son of Bor. And you stranger?” Odin asked and I considered. Odin, I had already guessed, was one of the pagans that cropped up from time to time. His mythology must be new; because he was both young and not that powerful compared to some of the older pagans, but it would not do to underestimate him. Most pagans hated angels and Heaven as much as they hated each other, especially after what happened in Egypt. It hadn’t been until after that night that I had learned why Raphael had gone to the palace – he had gone to slaughter the gods that would rise up in defence of their worshippers. The few that escaped had scattered and spread the word among other pantheons of the blood spilled that night.

“I have no name, wanderer as I am, and no family that would claim me. I simply go where my feet and the wind take me,” I said after a moment.

“Are you some kind of spirit?” Odin asked and I laughed, joyous. It struck me then that I couldn’t remember the last time I had truly laughed, the last time I had enjoyed someone’s company. Yet something about Odin had put me immediately at ease, something about him reminded me of Michael before the Fall. 

“An interesting choice!” I told him, “Spirited describes me well but I am no kind of spirit,”

“No, spirits do not enjoy riddles and games as you do,” Odin smiled back. “Surely then you are of the fae?”

“Fair I may be and games I love but fae I am not,” I replied enjoying this little guessing game. Odin too it seemed liked to puzzle things through. “Twice you have guessed and twice you have failed. A third time you may guess and if you guess correctly I will give you a prize,”

“What kind of prize?” Odin asked and I laughed again.

“A _surprise_ prize,” I countered and Odin chuckled.

“You cannot blame me for asking surely?” He enquired, “Is there a time limit on my final guess or may I learn more about you before I name you?” I considered the matter. It had been years since I had heard from Father, since his last message. I had wandered since then, avoiding my siblings as much as I could. I had of course spoken to humans in that time but had I had a real conversation with any of them? Loneliness had a bitter taste on an angel’s lips.

“At the dawning of the sun I move onwards with the wind,” I decided to answer. I could have one night surely? One night of conversation where I could pretend I wasn’t alone. “You have until then to make your guess,”

“Then we shall enjoy our night and share tales, as chance companions around a fire might, and just before dawn breaks I will name you,” Odin said and I agreed.

The night passed, as nights do, sharing tales and stories. Odin had few, his mythos was too young, but the story he told about order and chaos, his father and grandfather was one that, I believed, would become popular. He did not tell me that night how he lost his eye but he did tell me about his plans to build Asgard, a home for his people. In return I told him of distant lands, of other pantheons and how they believed the world came into being. I told him of the vast lands beyond his borders and he devoured it, hungry to know more.

Later I would wonder if it was loneliness alone which made that one night of shared tales feel so precious but I knew from the beginning that Odin’s most dangerous trait was his charisma. As dawn crept ever closer and the time came for false dawn I felt the curious urge to slow time, to make this night last longer. I did not want to go back to being alone; I did not want to lose the comradeship I had found this night. That was why I allowed Odin to push back his guess as long as possible even though I knew further south the sun had already risen, Odin had no concept of a round world and I had no desire to end this night prematurely.

“I have listened to your tales and heard your questions and I believe I know now what you are, nameless though you be,” Odin mused, “Before I guess however I should like to make an offer to you,”

“What offer would that be?” I asked.

“Come with me to Asgard; help me build a city that will be the glory of the world. You say no family will claim you - not that you have no family and so let _my_ family be yours. Brother I would call you and a home you would have,” Odin said and I gaped at him speechless. Of all the things I had expected this young pagan to say it was not this.

My brothers turned me away but this stranger, this pagan, offered me a new family. A family who didn’t care that I sinned, that I made mistakes. A deep pit of an emotion I could not name welled up in me and never before had I been more tempted to just agree and to toss aside all duty and care, to forget about the family I left behind and to walk away. To leave Michael and Raphael to their fate, whatever it was. Yet I could not, I knew I could not. I was not so arrogant to assume that Father needed me but I knew I brought him some comfort and I could not turn my back on him. 

“Your offer is generous Odin, son of Bor. Yet my nature is to wander, not to stay in one place. I would like to call you friend and visit your city once you have built it but I am not suited to a home, my spirit is too free to be confined,” I replied as that was the best I could offer my new friend. 

“As you wish,” Odin answered with a small nod, “Let me say this then, if I guess you correctly then my prize will be a chance. Not right away of course, but when your feet call on you to halt for some short time let it be in Asgard. Stay with us a century, let us claim you as family,” The temptation was great and the ache in my heart only increased. I _wanted_ what Odin offered. I wanted it so badly. A century wasn’t too long, I told myself; a century could easily pass between messages and had in the past. Father would give me that long I was sure.

“So be it, Odin, son of Bor. If you guess correctly when my feet draw me to a halt for some time they will draw me to a halt at Asgard’s gates.” I agreed.

“Then I say this, that your game is another trick and a clever one at that. You, I believe, are unique. In all the world there is none like you and so there is no answer to your guess,” Odin said and I laughed, thrilled.

“A clever trick but clearly not one that would fool you. It is true there is none like me and so name for what I am.”

“Then I have a name for you, nameless as you are. Trickster I shall call you until you give me another name to call you by,” Odin said.

“Trickster,” I mused and smiled, “Yes Trickster I will be, for now. Congratulations Odin, son of Bor, for you have out tricked the Trickster. Now the dawn comes and my feet itch to move. I will see you Odin, at the gates of Asgard, when my feet stop itching,”

“Fare well in your travels Trickster,” Odin said climbing to his feet and offering me a bow of respect that I returned.

“Fare well Odin, friend of the Trickster,” I replied and then I was gone, running over the tundra southwards towards the sun. Friend. I hadn’t had one of those in a very long time. I liked Odin and perhaps, when Father no longer needed a Messenger, I would take Odin up on his offer of a home even for a short while.

The ache of loneliness eased, just a little, as I ran and danced towards the sun.

Now as I wandered, a nearly compulsive urge to keep moving, to keep learning, to keep helping, I did so with the knowledge that someone out there liked me. Someone out there wanted me to be their friend, their brother.

Trickster. The name Odin gave me resonated within me. Names had power. I had been many things archangel, weapon, messenger, sinner but this… to be a Trickster was something new, something I could make my own. Games and riddles and laughter. Yes, Trickster was a good name.

“You seem happy Gabriel,” A voice interrupted my thoughts even as I strolled through a busy marketplace in Hong Kong. I turned to see my Father catch up to me, dressed as one of the richer natives, his near black eyes dancing. “I have not seen you smile like that in a long time,”

“I made a friend,” I told him though he doubtlessly already knew.

“Odin, son of Bor,” Father nodded, “He made you laugh,”

“He was very clever and he tells good stories. I think he’ll go far,” I answered and Father smiled. “Do you have a message for me to deliver?” I asked and he just looked at me. Instead of answering he took my arm and linked it with mine so that we were touching as we walked down the street.

“I do,” Father said after a few minutes, “But it can wait a little while. Tell me your stories Gabriel,” He asked. I almost beamed in delight. Father had time for my stories today! I had so many I wanted to share but I told him first of my meeting with Odin and the name he gave me simply because I wished to share. Then when he made no move to end the conversation I moved onto my exploration of the fjords and of everything I had done since I last saw him. He spoke little, and when he did it was quiet, but I didn’t mind. Father was often distracted, often busy. That he was here and that he was clearly interested in hearing my stories was more than enough.

“Trickster,” Father mused, “An appropriate title, more than your new friend could possibly know, but not really a name.”

“I suppose not,” I admitted, “But the pagans don’t like angels. I can’t tell him I’m Gabriel,”

“Friendships built on lies never end well Gabriel,” Father warned me and I looked at him.

“But if I do tell him he won’t be my friend at all,” I said and Father simply sighed.

“Perhaps, perhaps not.” He pressed a kiss to my temple, “It is your life to live Gabriel. I just don’t want you to get hurt,”

“A name is just a name,” I shrugged, “I’m still me whatever name I use. It’s also less likely to annoy Michael to the point of him doing something ridiculous if he doesn’t know I’m befriending pagans,” I was teasing and Father knew it yet when he replied his laughter was sad.

“That much is true,” Father said.

“Are you alright Father?” I asked suddenly worried. My good mood evaporated as I looked at him and wondered if my siblings had done something terrible again.

“I am running out of options Gabriel,” Father told me with a heavy expression. I bit my lip, uncertain and afraid.

“Are you sure you can’t just _tell_ them it’s okay to eat the fruit?” I asked knowing the answer before Father even said anything. He just looked at me and I glanced down at the earth. If Michael and Raphael hadn’t realised by now, just from Father’s treatment of me, that he would not cast them away for eating then it was becoming increasingly clear they never would. It would take an order and Father would not order them to learn. He couldn’t. Something hot and angry and bitter welled up in my chest. I was angry, I realised, at my brothers. This was more than just a lack of understanding; this was wilful blindness to what was right in front of their eyes!

A soft sigh drew my attention back to Father. He was looking at me with sad understanding and I immediately quashed the anger. It might feel justified but it wouldn’t solve anything.

“You had a message for me?” I changed the subject on purpose, knowing full well it would cut our conversation short. It hurt, being here now, knowing everything that Father was and yet also knowing that he couldn’t fix this.

It was part of growing up, I thought bitterly, to know that your parent, even if he was God, couldn’t just fix everything with a wave of a hand. That was one of the more painful lessons I was learning.

“Yes, if you are willing,” Father accepted the change of subject, “I think you’ll like this one,”

“Of course Father, you know I am always willing,” I replied immediately.

“There are two, a woman by the name of Elizabeth. She is past childbearing age but she will bear a son, she is to call him John.” Father said and I nodded, “Her husband may object to the name at least, I’m sure you can think of something appropriate to persuade him.” I met his eyes and knew then this was a concession, a silent apology that our conversation had not been a happy one. It was a chance to test out my new title, to learn what it was to be a Trickster.

“And the other?” I asked.

“A young girl in Nazareth, Elizabeth’s cousin, her name is Mary,” Father said with a smile, “She too is to bear a child. Her son will be special Gabriel. Very special. He will be called Emmanuel and he will be remembered for all ages,”

“Is he a Prophet?” I asked curious.

“No, he’s something else entirely,” Father answered cryptically.

It was an understatement. I hadn’t intended on staying for long after I passed on my messages but when I realised that Elizabeth’s son John was a prophet, when I realised Mary was untouched I knew something special was happening here and so I stayed.

Thirty three years Jesus lived, with three years of ministry during which he passed on the message that Father had told me over and over again. That he would always forgive so long as a sinner was willing to learn from their mistakes. I didn’t know what Jesus was, except special, but I knew what his presence meant. As much as he was there to save humanity he was also my siblings’ final chance. Father’s final attempt to tell them what they should already know.

They didn’t listen.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Raphael hissed to me outside of Bethany as Jesus visited some of his friends there, “You’re _job_ is done with, _leave_ ,” my brother spat. The anger and bitterness that I had felt in Hong Kong as I realised that my brothers were being wilfully blind rose up in me once again. How dare Raphael tell me what I could and could not do? I had been afraid of him not long ago, afraid of what he would do to me if Father’s protection was ever withdrawn. That day my anger rose above my fear and I lifted my chin and met Raphael’s furious gaze evenly. I refused to back down.

“I have every right to be here,” I told him, “Am I not a sinner? This man, whoever and whatever he is, has been chosen by Father to pass on his word and to offer forgiveness to _all_ sinners. Including me.” Raphael glared, looking that he would very much like to hurt me. In that moment I thought perhaps I’d like to return the favour.

I was alone because Raphael refused to see. I was condemned and reviled by my family; I had to turn to _pagans_ for companionship. I had liked Odin, he had been interesting and clever and had made me laugh, but he should not be closer to me than my brothers. If Raphael would just _see_ , just open his eyes and see what Father was trying to show him, open his ears and listen to the words Father gave to humanity then I would no longer be forced to walk the world with this deep well of grief and pain.

It was incredibly selfish but I had tried to be selfless for so long and I was sick of it. I didn’t want to hurt anymore. I didn’t want to be lonely anymore.

“As if _you_ would ever be forgiven,” Raphael spat, tension running through his entire being. The wind around us stirred with the force of his anger and clouds started to gather in the sky. I readied myself for a fight, knowing instinctively that I had pushed too hard. Raphael was about to break Father’s edict. I found in that moment I did not care. The thought of harming my brothers had always horrified me before but right then I could have beaten Raphael to a pulp and not cared about anything except whether it had opened his eyes and his ears.

“ **Raphael** ,” A voice thundered cutting through the air, razor sharp and familiar. For a brief second I thought it was Father, come to prevent Raphael from attacking me. Then I realised it wasn’t.

It was Michael.

My eldest brother landed between us, his borrowed face utterly expressionless as he stared Raphael down. The clouds above us dispersed, the wind returned to a gentle breeze and Raphael’s eyes fell to the ground, chastised.

“I know your pain dearest brother,” Michael stepped closer to Raphael, a hand on his shoulder in what was probably meant to be a comforting gesture. To me however it looked nothing more than controlling. “But Father has decreed Gabriel is not to be touched.” The use of my name was jarring. Only Castiel and Father had used it in the centuries since I left Heaven. Then it sunk in what else he had said. Dearest brother. _Of course_. Raphael was the only archangel left, Lucifer and I had, in Michael’s mind at least, betrayed Heaven. It still hurt, though I couldn’t possibly say why. What did it matter to me that Michael treated Raphael so?

My thoughts were cut off as Michael turned to look at me. Despite myself I swallowed heavily. Michael had inspired fear in me while I was still in Heaven and hadn’t done anything wrong; now one look at his emotionless face was enough to have me tremble. I didn’t back down. If I did not back down in the face of Raphael’s anger I would not do the same in the face of Michael’s indifference. Yet I could not deny my fear.

“I said did I not Gabriel that your compassion was your greatest virtue and greatest weakness?” Michael said stepping towards me. Instinctively I stepped back, not daring to let him get too close. “I will not harm you. Father will not permit it,” It was not a reassuring statement, what he didn’t say hung between us.

“He should not be here,” Raphael hissed from behind Michael and my eldest siblings smiled then. Or at least that was the closest description; to call it a real smile was fundamentally wrong. It was too harsh, too dangerous and too knowing to be something as nice as a smile.

“Let him be brother-mine,” Michael said smoothly. “Let him find what comfort he can, even if it is in a false-hope,”

“False hope?” I found myself asking before I could think better of it. I looked over to the house where Jesus and his followers were sat for a meal. I didn’t doubt that the man who wasn’t quite a man knew exactly what was going on out here. There was no other explanation as to why none of the humans had come to investigate the threatening storm earlier. “He only teaches what Father reveals to him of his word. His words are Father’s and Father does not offer false hope. Not even to the worst of sinners,” I didn’t need to tell Michael who I meant, we all knew. Not that Lucifer was technically a sinner but Michael probably thought he was.

My brother stepped forward again but when I tried to step backwards I found myself rooted to the floor. I could not tell if it was my own wariness or if Michael was using his grace. His hand settled on my shoulder, just as it had Raphael’s, and then he leant in until I could feel his vessel’s breath on my cheek.

“It is false because while humans may be redeemed in death if you believe you will ever enter through the Gates of Heaven again you are a fool as well as a sinner,” he whispered, his voice little more than a caress. I shivered, trying to swallow down the solid lump in my throat and not succeeding.

“I am a sinner, yes,” I whimpered screwing my eyes shut so I did not have to see the blank look in Michael’s eyes, “But Michael I am your brother…”

“No,” Michael murmured again. “No Gabriel you are not. You are not my brother. You are not an angel. You are _nothing_. Nothing but a sinner,” My eyes flew open.

The blankness had been replaced by something much, much worse.

The look in Michael’s eyes wasn’t anger or pain. He was not hurt by what I had done and he did not care, really, that I had abandoned Heaven. He didn’t say the words that crushed me because he wanted me to suffer as much as he had. No, it was much simpler than that.

Michael _hated_ me.

It was unflinching, uncompromising hatred that I saw in his eyes. A hatred as cold and unforgiving as Lucifer had ever been. My brother was gone; there was only Heaven’s General before me.

I knew then, what my heart had been trying to tell me for a while but I had refused to acknowledge. I knew that Michael would never open his eyes.

Father was wrong.

No matter how many good examples Michael was given, no matter how many nudges in the right direction he received it would not help. I was everything Michael hated and that would never change.

He would _never_ learn.

“As you say,” I murmured and Michael pulled away. He and Raphael vanished in an instant leaving me cold and afraid and bubbling with anger.

They left me alone.

Staying now with Jesus, listening to his words, felt like a punishment but it was one I endured. False-hope Michael called it and I suppose in a way it was. I still believed in Father’s unlimited capacity to forgive but I also knew I would never enter the Gates of Heaven again. I stayed long enough to deliver one last message, after Jesus had died and risen again, before leaving Father’s chosen behind and making my way north.

By Michael’s decree I was no longer an angel.

But I was still a Trickster and there was one willing to call me brother.

“Trickster!” Odin smiled as I was shown into the golden hall of Asgard. Odin had built himself a kingdom and his court of pagan gods was as stunning as the buildings that surrounded them.

“Hail Odin, son of Bor. You bid me come and see your city and so I have come,” I answered.

“So I did!” Odin stepped down from his throne and strode forward, “One century you promised me but I hope I can persuade you to stay longer.” He engulfed me in an embrace, “Welcome to Asgard my brother,”

“I am welcomed… brother,” I answered. I wondered briefly why using the word didn’t bring me relief, why being welcomed into a new family didn’t ease the knot in my chest, but I ignored it. 

“Do you have a name yet Trickster, that I might call you?” Odin enquired as he stepped back. Father’s warning echoed in my mind, a warning about lying, but in that moment I had not felt less like myself. The name Gabriel belonged to an angel and I was not that any longer. It was time to be someone new and if I was someone new then whatever name I gave would not be a lie.

“Loki,” I told Odin, “You can call me Loki,”

“Loki, brother of Odin, Lord of Tricksters,” Odin said and smiled, “Come, let me introduce you to your new family,”


	5. Anger

I think I had forgotten how to have _fun_. How to laugh and smile and simply enjoy life. It had been so long, so many years of fear and uncertainty and loneliness and Asgard was so _different_. It felt a lot like relief. It felt a lot like _home_. In Asgard it was so easy just to shove all the badness into the dark corners of my mind and enjoy life that it was exactly what I did. 

I threw myself into my new role as Loki, playing tricks, creating riddles and games and otherwise delighting the other gods with my illusions. They knew I was not quite like them but none of them even came close to guessing what I actually was and I was careful not to appear too powerful. I stuck mostly to reality bending, to illusions and creating small items as well as apparent teleportation (in truth flying faster than they could comprehend).

Thor thought I was the most entertaining thing that had happened in Asgard for years. Heimdall found me infuriating because his incredible eyes could not always keep up with me. Baldur regularly sulked and glared because I upstaged him, the spoiled brat. Frigga and Idunn were indulgent of my games and laughed when I caught their husbands in tricks. Freyja felt safe flirting with me, knowing that I would never press her, and her brother Frey and father Njord liked me simply because Freyja did.

I would always be grateful for the welcome the Norse gods gave me and whatever else happened later I could forever give them credit for two things. They introduced me first to sugar and then to sex. It wasn’t as if I didn’t know about either of them before but I had never personally tried them. I had enjoyed sweet fruits occasionally but nothing like the sugary treats that were a staple of the feasts held in Odin’s hall. I had witnessed many couples (and sometimes more than couples) and knew sex when done right was fun and pleasurable but until the beautiful women and men of Odin’s court pursued me and then took me apart touch by touch I didn’t know how overwhelmingly _good_ it was. 

It was like the pains and hardships of the past were nothing but a bad dream and I could finally smile again. I had friends, I had _family_ and I loved every second of it.

Odin kept his promise, treating me like his brother and confidant. It had been a long time since I had felt so at home, so wanted and needed.

I barely even noticed when things started to sour.

It started with the wall. That was not my fault, the others were the ones to place the bet and I warned them not to. I might have let them suffer the consequences were it not for the utter terror in Freyja’s eyes when she realised what it would mean when Svadilfari’s master won. I was praised afterwards, Freyja hugged me and Njord swore his family would be in my eternal debt. I told them it was fine, but that they should learn from this and not place bets unless they were willing to lose.

They did learn that lesson and the next bet they were involved in cost them nothing. It did however cost me. They were all apologetic afterwards, as my lips ached from the stitches, they insisted that they wanted me to win (though the bet was not mine) but they had to be honest. It would be wrong for them to lie to spare me minor discomfort. I forgave them again but I didn’t see how Odin watched them all enjoying their new gifts with a look of triumph on his face.

“Loki, I should like your opinion on something,” Odin called to me one day, after the stiches were gone and my mouth had healed. I turned and smiled at him.

“Of course brother,” I said and followed him through to the hall of judgement. Odin was often called to settle arguments among the Aesir’s worshippers and I knew at once that this was one of those times. A man knelt between two guards, glaring and smug and irritated.

“Brother of mine,” Odin said as he sat on his throne, Grungir in his hand, “This man has been accused of adultery and beating his wife by a neighbour.”

“And?” I asked giving the man a cursory glance; he was dripping in sin. I didn’t bother looking deeper, trusting that Odin had no reason to lie “What’s the problem?”

“There is no proof. The wife refuses to testify, though she is badly bruised, and none of the women he has lain with will admit to it.” Odin replied. “He is wealthy; he probably paid them off,”

Irritation welled up in me as I stared at the accused man. Of course he had paid them off. Probably he was well respected in his home village or town and did not want his habit of beating women to get out. I beat back the anger at what he had done. Father decreed all humanity should be given the chance to atone for their sins; a man like this was to be pitied for not taking that chance. Still I could see Odin’s problem and why it had been brought to the gods rather than left to the law of the land to deal with.

“You cannot kill him if you cannot prove that he did this,” I told Odin, “No one wants a king who will kill on a rumour, even if the rumour is true. So teach him instead, teach him what he did wrong so that he does not offend again,”

“You wouldn’t punish him?” Odin asked curiously and I hesitated. Odin’s expression was neutral and I had a sinking feeling in my gut that this was some kind of test. What Odin was looking for I did not know.

“It would depend on the punishment,” I replied though I wasn’t certain of the answer. If this was father I would have known right away but Odin was not my father and I did not know what he was looking for, “Punishing on its own is not enough, it would only breed bitterness. He has a lesson to learn, so let him learn it,” I didn’t like uncertainty, it reminded me too much of my final days in Heaven. Made it harder to imagine the whole thing as a nightmare I was finally free from.

“I see,” Odin said studying me, “I will take your words under advisement. Thank you Loki,” I knew a dismissal when I saw it. I turned to leave the hall when my eyes caught the accused man’s. He was grateful, I could see that clearly. He believed I had saved his life today and I hoped that would be enough to inspire him to correct his ways. Perhaps, once Odin was done with him, I would visit him and encourage him to be better.

I left the hall and wandered out of the gates of Asgard. The city was built just a sidestep through the fabric of reality, it couldn’t be seen in normal circumstance by humans but once they were brought onto the rainbow bridge it would unfold around them. Beyond the bridge the land stretched out to the sea southwards while to the north lay mountains and fjords and tundra, it was a beautiful sight and one I enjoyed taking the time to absorb.

“It is a very beautiful sight,” A familiar voice said beside me and I turned. Today Father was wearing a local woman, her golden hair worn as a crown of tight elaborate braids.

“Father,” I said, delighted to see her but my heart already sinking. The relief that had enveloped me since my arrival in Asgard faded. There had until now been no wondering about Heaven, no worrying about Michael and Raphael. They would not learn and I could not help them so long as their eyes remained closed. A leaden weight suddenly hung around my shoulders and wings as I wondered what message Father had for me today. The message itself was not the problem of course, but what it was and where it would take me would mean encountering my bro… no not my brothers. Not anymore. It would mean encountering the host of Heaven.

“There is no message today Gabriel,” The name, as ever, felt a little like wonder and a little like a sharpened blade. I was too used to Loki already. Too used to being called anything but Gabriel. Father looked at me, her ancient eyes a contrast to her youthful face. She looked resigned, pained, as if driven to some course she would not have wished to follow. I didn’t know how right I was.

“Is there something else you need?” I asked because I could not remember Father ever coming to me without some other purpose in mind. She didn’t really do social visits.

“Are you happy here Gabriel?” She asked rather than answering my question.

“I guess?” I said not really sure what she meant. I had friends, I enjoyed my life here, I was learning all sorts of new things and I was still helping people. Why wouldn’t I be happy? “I’m not alone anymore,” I said and Father sighed.

“Then at least in that much I have not failed,” She said and I looked at her in confusion.

“I don’t understand,” I said but she did not answer. Rather she turned to look out towards the sea.

“I have run out of options Gabriel,” She said, “Your siblings will not listen and they will not see.”

“I know,” I replied, resisting the sudden urge to cry. It was a puzzling emotion as it had been a long time since I’d felt the need to cry over Heaven, most days I refused to dwell on it but on the days I did anger seemed to be the primary emotion I felt about it. Then I saw Father’s eyes glistening and realised it was not my urge to cry that I was feeling but hers. I stood, stunned, for I do not believe I had ever seen Father cry before. “Father…”

“I came to say goodbye Gabriel,” She said turning back to me, her face damp.

“Goodbye?” I asked, not understanding. Why would Father say goodbye to me? Neither of us was going anywhere and despite my new status among the Norse gods I had not and would not denounce her.

“I am leaving Gabriel,” She told me, “And I cannot say if we will ever meet again,”

The words hit me like a lightning bolt. I gasped in horror and shock and repulsion. Father was _leaving_? I couldn’t even begin to grasp it, couldn’t even imagine such a thing.

“I… Father…” I gasped, words robbed from me. My mind was reeling. This could not be happening. It could not be real.

“It has become increasingly obvious that Michael and Raphael will not open themselves to learn so long as I am holding their hands,” Father told me. “Without me giving orders they will be forced to make their own decisions and that in turn will lead to them questioning those decisions,”

I understood the words she was saying but I could not comprehend them. How could Father _leave_?

“They will have to look for another path,” Father said looking at me sadly.

“But… they _need_ you,” I choked. Wasn’t that what Father said? I could now learn from my mistakes, I was all grown up and didn’t need her anymore. Yet Michael and Raphael weren’t, they were incapable of understanding. They needed Father.

“That is the point Gabriel,” She told me calmly, “They need me but I won’t be there so they will have to find a way to _not_ need me anymore,”

The logic made sense. I knew it did. It was a harsh logic, one borne of necessity rather than care. Yet I knew as soon as understanding penetrated my mind that it was also _wrong_. Logic, even harsh logic, would not solve this problem. Forcing Michael and Raphael’s hands would only make things worse not better.

I had thought it before, briefly, in one moment of perfect anger.

Now I knew it, deep down in my very core.

_Father was wrong._

“No,” I said knowing exactly what I was saying and exactly what it meant. Father looked at me, faintly surprised. “No Father, this is wrong. It will make things _worse_ not better. You can’t do this,”

“I’ve made my decision Gabriel,” Father said her voice stern and determined.

“Well it’s a _stupid_ decision,” I growled as fresh anger and frustration welled up inside me. “What will you leaving really achieve? You’re the only thing stopping Michael from just killing all the sinners and being done with it and we both know it. He _hates_ us. Can’t stand the thought of even being near us let alone being one of us. Michael is the good son, Father, he won’t _ever_ let himself sin.”

“What would you have me do Gabriel?” Father asked, her own anger sparking in her eyes, “As you say, Michael will not do it. Raphael will follow his lead and the rest of the host are either as blind as they are or too afraid to reach out.”

I huffed frustrated and angry and with no idea what to say or do. We were both right and yet we couldn’t both be right. It was impossible and there were no solutions.

“You could… you could just remove him.” I said, “He’s obviously not fit to lead the host. If you did then everyone would be more open to change,”

“And who would take his place?” Father demanded, “Raphael? He was never meant to lead the host alone Gabriel, the stress of it would crush him. And if it didn’t what do I do with Michael? Kill him? Lock him in another Cage? He has done nothing but obey me all his life, how is there _any_ justice in punishing him for that?”

“I…” My words were lost, drowned out in the storm of emotion. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know that was anything that _could_ be said.

“I am angry with him, upset that he can’t open his eyes but he is still my child Gabriel. My eldest son and I love him.” Father said softly, her anger leaching away and replaced once more by tears. “No Gabriel. This is the best option. I don’t like it but there is no other way,”

Father was leaving.

I closed my eyes and gave into my emotions, letting tears spill down my cheeks. Father stepped closer to me, wrapping her arms around my waist and tucking my head into her chest.

“I will miss you,” She told me.

“I’ll miss _you_ ,” I replied my breath hitching and my heart breaking.

“I have one last message that will need to be passed onto humanity, when the time comes,” She said and pressed a kiss to my temple. Knowledge of the prophet Muhammad settled into my mind, how to find him and what he needed to be told. I nodded blearily, understanding. “Whatever happens Gabriel remember that I love you and I am proud of you,”

“Please Father… don’t go,” I whispered, promising myself it would be the only time I would let the words escape my lips. Father said nothing, just held me tighter.

“Promise me something Gabriel,” She said after a few moments.

“Anything,” I replied and she pulled away slightly, just enough to meet my eyes.

“I will never tell you who to make friends with. It is your life to live. But promise me Gabriel that no matter what, you will not let your new friends talk you into doing something you know is wrong,” She said and I swallowed heavily. I knew pagans in general were a lot more vicious than was strictly necessary. Blood rites were common, as were sacrifices. I had avoided them all so far and my friends respected my wishes but I knew that one day that might not be enough.

“I promise,” I said quietly and Father smiled at me. It was a bitter smile, as if she knew something that she was not telling me. Possibly she did. Possibly she knew even then what path I would walk. Or possibly she just regretted that it had come to this. That she had to give me up to a group of pagans and trust that they would not break me. She let her hands fall and she stepped away from me, tears still staining her beautiful face. I knew that expression would be the last I ever saw of my Father and though it would not be the one I would choose – I would never want the last image I had of her to be one of her sad – it was one that would never leave me.

“Be careful, my child,” She said softly, “And never stop learning,”

“Yes Father,” I replied. Then she was gone.

I lived in a haze for a long while after that, unable to find my previous contentment. At Odin’s suggestion I wed a lovely young goddess by the name of Sigyn who was good and kind and lit up the room with her smile. I had adventures, with Odin and with Thor, and cemented my legend as the Trickster among humanity. All the while I felt as though there was something missing, some terrible emptiness inside of me that I could not shake. It was dark and crippling and left me feeling as though nothing in the world could get me to smile again. I knew what it was, Father’s absence from the fabric of Creation, but there was nothing I could do about it except try and live with it.

I took to wandering again, my promised century in Asgard over, but every time I left to be alone the weight crushed me even more and I quickly turned back to my new friends. Out in the world it was even harder to block out the overwhelming loss and it was even harder not to notice that the host was mourning Father’s disappearance. I listened for their voices in the back of my mind but they continued as normal, clearly unaware that Father had vanished completely.

Or at least most of the host were unaware.

Michael came down from Heaven like a meteorite, all flame and wrath and screaming air. I didn’t even notice him until he was landing on my back, crushing my wings under his feet, blade resting at the back of my neck.

“ _What did you do?!?_ ” He screamed. Gone was the careful, cool façade. Gone was the tightly coiled emotion. Gone was the manipulative caring. In its place was fury and hatred and the pain of a lost and abandoned child. I stilled, knowing one wrong move would be my end.

“ _What did you do?!?_ ” Michael screamed again and I said nothing, just lay still. An opossum playing dead and hoping the hawk would move on to better prey. Michael however was no simple bird. His feet lashed out, kicking me so hard in the ribs that I flew clear through the air to crash into a large rock.

“ _He’s gone! He’s gone! It’s **your fault! WHAT DID YOU DO?!?**_ ” Michael’s true voice was leaking out. The world around me trembled under the force of his emotions. The eldest archangel stalked towards me, grace leaked from his vessel as the world seemed to scream.

I was afraid. I’d have been an idiot not to be afraid. Yet I was also furious.

Why was it _my_ fault?

Why did it have to be something _I_ did?

I knew that if I moved, if I gave Michael anything in this moment he would take everything, including my life. I knew and yet the hollow emptiness I had felt since Father left gave way to a storm of anger and I discovered something.

I did not care.

I had been alone for years, ridiculed, spat at and despised by my family. For years I had pretended it didn’t hurt. For years I had pretended that my pagan friends were enough to make up for what I had lost. Really, I could have survived losing Heaven, I could have survived losing my closest siblings. How could I possibly be expected to survive losing Father? I had blamed myself for everything that had gone wrong up until this moment but I would not accept culpability for _this_. This was not on me. I had asked Father to stay for _Michael’s_ sake.

I would not let Michael accuse me of this. If he killed me for it, so be it.

The rock behind me shattered into a thousand pieces but not, this time, from Michael’s rage but rather from my own. The world bent on its axis as the power of two archangels clashed and for once I did not care. I rose to my feet to stand toe to toe with Michael and knew there was no one to stop this fight, not this time.

“You accuse _me_?” I spat back at Michael who seemed momentarily surprised by my reaction. Probably he expected me to cower in fear as I had before but no, Michael had crossed a line. “You blame _me_ for this? You _spoiled, arrogant brat_ ,” Michael’s eyes widened in surprise and in fury, “You know _nothing_! You have no comprehension of how the world really works. You claim to follow Father’s will but have _no_ idea what that even _is_! If anyone is to blame for his leaving it is _you_ Michael!”

It was the final straw. Michael’s fist hit my jaw. I staggered, Michael was stronger than me and he was so lost in his rage that he didn’t even care to hold back, but I did not falter. I would not. Michael was a child playing dress up in his Father’s clothes; it was past time he grew up. I recovered my balance and, before he could strike me again, I punched him back.

Michael was stronger and more experienced in battle, especially against other angels.

I was quicker and far more willing to play dirty. I also knew how predictable Michael actually was. After all, he couldn’t learn from his mistakes even when it came to fighting, and I took ruthless advantage of that.

The fight was short, brutal and painful. It passed as a series of flashes before my eyes; Michael’s blood staining my hands, torn out feathers dancing in a whirlwind around us and deep fissures carved into the bedrock where the very land was torn apart by our fight. By the time I threw Michael to the ground, the tip of my blade digging into his throat I was bleeding as freely as he was.

“ _Michael_ ,” Raphael had found us, his voice loud in the quiet after the fight and I paused. Our graces were still lashing out around us, all anger and fear and pain, but the two of us were eerily still, my golden eyes meeting his deep green. It would be so easy, I knew all I had to do was press forward and twist. Without Michael Raphael would lead the host and it wouldn’t be long before Father’s plan would come to fruition, Raphael would choose the path of knowledge eventually.

I wouldn’t be there to see it. If I killed Michael here and now my life would be forfeit.

The eerie calm that settled over me was frightening in its intensity. No hollow, empty feeling was this. It wasn’t the burning bright anger and pain and grief that had overwhelmed me moments before. No this was cold and calculated and far more dangerous. I could, right here and now, kill Michael and neither he nor Raphael would be able to stop me.

It wasn’t horror at the possibility that stopped me. It wasn’t compassion as Michael’s eyes filled with fear. It wasn’t even the love I felt for my siblings, even Michael. It was something far crueller, far darker that stayed my blade.

“You understand nothing Michael,” I whispered into his ear, a reversal of the last time we met. “Father did not leave because of _me_ , he left because of _you_. Because _you_ are a lost little child who refuses to listen, refuses to see and then throws a tantrum when you don’t understand what is happening. You are a _coward_ and you will _never_ learn and so long as you never learn? Then Father will _**never**_ come back.”

I shouldn’t have enjoyed it. I shouldn’t have taken such dark delight in the terror in Michael’s eyes as he realised I was telling the truth. He didn’t understand, of course he didn’t, he just heard that Father would not return until he passed some unnamed test and that scared him. If this was a human child I would have taken pity, pointed them in the right direction at least. Michael however was no human child.

“You disowned me for being a sinner, fine, now I disown _you_. You and all of Heaven. You drove Father away and for that I will _never_ forgive you. The next time I see an angel you’ll see what an archangel that sins can really do. So really it’s for the best that you never bother me again, not you and not any of the host,” I let my eyes flicker over to Raphael. My resolve almost wavered, Raphael looked at me with eyes that did not recognise me, yet when I turned back to Michael the eldest archangel was just as resolute as before and I hardened my heart to them all.

“Do I make myself clear?” I asked, cold and hard.

“Inescapably,” Michael grunted and I smiled, darkly. I leant back, removing the blade from his throat, but before he could think to try and throw me off I pulled back my hand and punched him one last time. The bones of his vessel shattered under the force of my fist and blood splattered across the ground and all over me. Michael let out a groan of pain and passed out.

I didn’t even spare Raphael a glance as I climbed to my feet and walked away.

Deep in the pit of my stomach something was brewing. It was something that could easily swallow me whole if I let it. I had no intention to let it but intentions are notoriously hard to keep.

I arrived back in Asgard, still coated in my brother’s blood, wearing the injuries I had given him with pride to an unsettled welcome. Apparently the other Aesir did not like seeing the playful and always smiling Trickster covered in blood wearing a face that promised murder to anyone who crossed his path. They were frightened, I noticed, and their fear fed the thing that was brewing within me.

Odin was in his hall, presiding over more disciplinary matters with the humans, when I arrived. I was waved in, Odin’s single eye gleaming.

“Loki, are you well?” He asked and I nodded, my voice temporarily stolen. “Are you sure?” His expression was compassionate, but his eye predatory. “You’re bleeding,” That much was true, but blood hardly bothered me. The torn out feathers of wings Odin could not see were far more hassle than the bleeding wounds of my vessel but I was not seriously hurt.

“Flesh wounds,” I replied, my voice hoarse, “I am well,” I glanced around the hall, observing what I had walked in on. There was a human kneeling at Odin’s feet, he seemed familiar. “This is a bad time,” I said watching the human but Odin rose from his throne and approached me.

“Nonsense brother, I will always have time for you,” He replied clapping his hand to my shoulder, “Besides there is little more to be said here. This man has clearly not learned his lesson from last time he was here. His wife and two of his lovers are dead, beaten to it at his hand. There is no recourse but to deliver the just punishment,” I frowned, the tale ringing in my mind, familiar.

I studied the man carefully and then it hit me, where I had seen this man before.

It was the adulterous man I had persuaded Odin to teach rather than punish the morning that Father left. The one I had promised myself I would visit and try to help him reform his ways. He had seemed so genuine that day, like he had wanted to repay my defence of him little though it was. In the chaos of Father’s absence I had not visited and now apparently he had moved from adultery and abuse to murder.

I waited for the pity for this poor lost soul to rise up. I waited for the guilt of my failure to help him.

Neither came.

Instead there was only anger. Had I not given this man a second chance? Had I not persuaded Odin not to kill him? It shouldn’t require me to make a personal visit to the man for him to realise he was doing the wrong thing. He was, unlike the host, perfectly capable of learning from his own mistakes without his hand being held. Now, because this man had refused to learn three people were dead. Now, because of this selfish, ignorant, brutish man three innocent women were dead.

I was vaguely aware that the room was starting to tremble. I barely noticed that the man looked at me with terror in his eyes.

All I could think of was what this man had done, after I gave him a chance. All I could think of was Michael, who had been given chance after chance after chance and not taken it. All I could think of were those women who were blameless, who didn’t deserve the fate they got, who deserved better. All I could think of was the punishment had to fit the crime. All I could think of was the pounding of fury in my head, screaming out for justice.

Three women were dead, this man’s life would not restore them but it would pay blood in blood.

The man was screaming now. The Aesir and human guards backed off rapidly rather than face down the wrath of the Trickster.

“I gave you a chance,” My voice was barely a whisper and roiling thunder all in one. “A second chance to be better, to learn and _this_ is what you do with it? What did those women do to deserve that fate? What gives you the right to lay a _single hand on them_?”

“ _Lord Loki… please… I didn’t… please… please… I didn’t…_ ” The man sobbed through his screams but I was beyond reason.

“ _You should have learned_ ,” I said and then raised my hand.

**SNAP.**

The man’s screams increased tenfold. I watched, dispassionate and cold, as the man was struck by invisible fists, his bones crushed by invisible feet, his skin ripped and torn by invisible whips. Every inch of pain he had visited on those women I returned twice over on him.

His screams were a balm for my ragged emotions.

With every drop of spilt blood a little more of my anger eased.

I understood, at last, why some sinners harmed even when they knew it was wrong.

_This felt good._

 

It took nearly an hour for the man to die and the whole time he screamed in agony and I watched, a silent judge refusing to back down. When his body finally gave out silence echoed in the golden hall. At my side Odin gently squeezed my shoulder.

“It was well done,” The King of Asgard said quietly.

 

I felt empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....... Ummm. It had to happen eventually?
> 
> (winces and goes to find shelter)


	6. Bitterness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to post. This was the hardest chapter of a story I have **ever** had to write. So much had to happen and I feel so bad for Gabriel.
> 
> **Trigger warning** for emotional abuse  & manipulation as well as suicidal thoughts. Please read with caution.

For a long moment nothing happened.

Then the illusion shattered.

The cold, hateful thing brewing in me was subsumed by the sudden invasion of blood. One body became hundreds. The golden hall was replaced by a burning and dead city. 

I was back, once more, in Sodom. In Gomorrah.

The smell of decay scorched my nose; the taste blood burned my tongue. Everywhere was painted red and brown. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t move, I couldn’t see. All around me sightless eyes stared, accusing and angry. I had done this. This was me… I had killed them… My hands were stained.

Someone was shouting.

It took a long moment to realise that it was me.

_“Father forgive me,”_

Words spilled in enochian out across the slaughter field.

I couldn’t breathe.

There was blood on my hands.

All around me was death. The eyes. The eyes were staring. I couldn’t… I had done this… I had done this…

_“Father forgive me,”_

Father did not answer.

Odin did. 

_“Loki,”_ He called out for me but I couldn’t call back. I was sat on the floor and had no idea how I had gotten there. 

“Loki!” Odin yelled again and then punched me clear in the face. I jerked and inhaled sharply. It didn’t hurt but it was enough to startle me out of my own head.

I could still feel those eyes on me but when I looked I saw it was only one set of eyes not hundreds, not thousands. The eyes of the man I had just killed.

“I killed him,” I said, my voice hoarse with horror.

“He was a murderer,” Odin replied.

“That doesn’t mean I should have done that,” I answered staring at my adopted brother.

“His fate was of his own making. His life was already forfeit,” Odin insisted, his expression strangely compelling. His single eye was cold and hard for a long moment. Then the callous king softened and my brother returned. He put his hand on my shoulder and pulled me into an embrace. “I _am_ sorry that it had to be you to mete out this punishment. I should have dealt with it myself,”

An image of Michael laughing as he slew an innocent child flashed across my mind but I cast it away. Instead I simply buried myself into Odin’s embrace. Nearby two pairs of glinting black eyes watched.

I had killed a man.

I had almost killed my _brother_.

I didn’t even know why.

Afterwards I fled. 

Once the shock faded, once Odin let his arms drop from around me, I fled. I ran from Asgard, from the people who had become my friends and I fled. I ran north and north again until I was stepped from land to ice and I still moved north. I went north until I couldn’t go any further north and then I fell to my knees and stared at the aurora above me, mind and heart in turmoil.

Why? Why had I done it?

I was hurt, I was angry yes but I had been those before and never reacted like this. I had used everything I knew of Michael to hurt him and hurt him badly out of what? Pettiness? Then I had turned my anger at my brother out on some human? The man was condemned to death anyway but did that mean he deserved what I did to him? No one deserved that, not even a murderer. Yet I had done it.

Yet even as I condemned myself my mind, working on overdrive, was already trying to excuse what I had done. Michael needed to open his eyes, or needed his eyes opening for him. The human… he was condemned to death anyway, as Odin said. I knew it was wrong but I couldn’t help it.

“Father _please_ ,” I cried tears dripping down my cheeks. “ _Forgive me,_ ”

Father did not answer.

Odin did.

“Come home Loki,” He begged, “Please my brother, come home.” 

“I can’t,” I sobbed, my heart broken even as that cold anger I had turned on Michael rose up in me once again. I was so angry, all the time. Somewhere along the line the anger had dug its claws into me and would not let go. I was angry at Michael, I was angry at Raphael, at the host, at humanity… I was even angry at Father. If Father had not left then this would not have happened…

“You _can_ ,” Odin insisted, “Asgard is your _home_. Whatever happens the gates will stand open for you.” I flinched, Michael’s words that barred the gates of Heaven from me echoing in my mind. What had I done wrong, I wondered? I had only wanted to help humanity, as Father ordered, why get thrown out of my own home for that?

“I _can’t_ ,” Because it didn’t matter what injustice I might have suffered at heaven’s hands, the truth was that _now_ I had killed. Now I had done something so completely _wrong_ that I didn’t know if I would ever be forgiven.

“Loki you are one of us. You made a mistake, angry as you were, but everyone makes mistakes. If you learn from your mistakes we will always forgive you,” Odin insisted, this time unknowingly echoing my Father’s words. I sagged, energy sapped. Anger was hard, I had discovered and it was draining. “Please Loki, come _home_ ,”

I couldn’t stay here forever. There was nothing here but the silent roar of the aurora and the distant song of the host. I had nowhere else to go. I let Odin lift me from the ice and carry me back southwards, back towards Asgard. At a distance two pairs of black eyes watched.

The world seemed to change overnight.

Everywhere I looked I saw cruelty and hurt.

It was as if everything good in the world had been sapped out of it.

The looks that the Aesir gave me had changed. They tried to be polite, tried to be as friendly as they could before but there was a glint in their eyes. It was an instinct-driven fear that left a light that just would not go away. They had seen me kill, slowly, brutally and even if they insisted they were still my friends there was a part of them already remembering that I was not one of them. Not really. 

The human towns close to Asgard had changed. If I walked through a town and saw a woman arrested for stealing to feed her children then I noticed that her children wore bruises that couldn’t be explained by rough play and that she encouraged them to steal for themselves and beat them when they didn’t. If I saw a man gambling away what meagre savings he had for a slim chance of winning enough to keep a roof over his head then I also saw how he had squandered the money his father had left him in the first place just to spite a man who had given him everything and asked for nothing in return.

Where had the humans who were strong gone? The ones who fought against the darkness in their lives until they could do nothing more than break? I knew they were out there, they must be, but for some reason I could not see them.

It was as if, by killing that man in anger, I had been cursed. The light I had wanted to carry to the humans, to show them the way out of the darkness, had been extinguished and now all I could see was darkness. I felt as though that darkness was infecting me, seeping in the cracks and extinguishing what light I clung to. Every time one of my friends or my wife flinched from me the anger I held in my heart became just a little colder. Every time I saw a human revelling in sin and profiting from it hurt that had filled my heart hardened a little more into a protective shell.

Yet every night I still prayed to Father for forgiveness and every night I was left grasping at the emptiness where he was absent. He had promised, hadn’t he, that I would not lose him but now he was gone. I was lost and afraid and I needed him but he wasn’t there.

“Father forgive me,” I whispered into the dark, my voice quiet and bitter as the pointlessness of the prayer sank just a little deeper into my shredded heart.

Father did not answer.

Odin did.

“The world is a dark place Loki. It always has been.” Odin murmured his hand on my shoulder as I confessed to the curse that seemed to be on me, “I know you try to see the best in people but sometimes there is no ‘best’. Some people… some people never learn,” 

The words struck too close to my heart. It was painfully true. Just because someone was capable of learning doesn’t mean they would. Some people didn’t _want_ to learn, they were too comfortable where they were, too secure in their superiority. Some people were blind.

I wondered then if there was less of a difference between the host and humans than I had thought. True the host were incapable of learning from their mistakes but their blindness to how to overcome that was just the same as the blindness of some humans.

“I hate seeing you like this Loki,” Odin murmured in my ear one day, “You are my brother, I miss your smiles,” I flinched, reminded once again of my Father. “Let me find you something to do, something to help you forget your troubles, bring a smile to your face again. Let me find you a purpose.”

I had no purpose anymore, no duty to fulfil. There were no more messages. There was Muhammad of course but that would not be for a few centuries yet and I could not say that I was eager to pass that message on to humanity. It was more of the same, after all, more of the promises of forgiveness that Father had given before that tasted like ash in my mouth. _False hope_ Michael had called it. 

Yet Odin was promising me a purpose, something to cling to, to rebuild myself to.

“Yes. Yes brother,” I whispered. I did not see the two sets of glittering black eyes watching.

 

It was easy at first. Little jobs and clever tricks; lessons for those that needed them. Like Thor, who kept misplacing Mjolnir, and Frey, who really should have known better than to give away his rune-sword. Tricks that irritated their targets at first but earned smiles and laughs later, once the sting had faded. I smirked and smiled through it, trying to use the laughter to reignite the light. I thought I succeeded and yet after each trick I was left exhausted, drained in a way I didn’t understand. The tricks took little to no grace yet I felt as if I could just lie and stare at the stars forever, numb.

Then the jobs became harder, more complex. Teaching a priest that stealing from the sacrifices the people brought for the gods was not only wrong but unwise. Tricking the great wolf Fenris into Asgard where he could be trapped forever to prevent him from slaughtering everything and everyone in the Ironwood. Tricks and lessons that were important but that hurt to learn, that couldn’t be laughed off so easily later. Yet I still smiled through them even if the smile felt false, the enjoyment of the cleverness felt constructed.

The first time I refused a job, teaching a landowner that just because he had money didn’t mean he was allowed to use his servants for target practise, Odin didn’t get annoyed. He simply sighed, disappointed, and moved on. I tried to feel relieved, tried to tell myself that I was doing as Father said; I wasn’t letting Odin talk me into doing something wrong. Except all I could feel was guilt that I had let Odin down. Would it really be so bad if I did agree to Odin’s lesson? Something needed to be done about the man, surely? The thoughts twisted my stomach; too close to what had been done to the man I had killed to be comfortable, and left me feeling worse than before. I sat in the house I shared with Sigyn not far from the Golden Hall and listened as the landowner was put to death. If I had intervened could I have saved him from that? Could he have learned without paying the ultimate price? I didn’t know, I couldn’t guess.

When had the world gotten so complicated?

Sigyn sat beside me, a silent support, squeezing my shoulder gently as I wept, lost, confused and more exhausted than ever.

The next job Odin brought to me was a woman who had been caught stealing, her family was wealthy so she didn’t need to steal yet she claimed that she couldn’t help herself. I agreed to teach her and when she left, having lost a hand from her refusal to learn the lesson, I felt something in me finally break.

What was the point? I wasn’t earning forgiveness, Father wasn’t coming back. Why was I even trying anymore? My hands were stained with blood long before I ate the Fruit.

I flew myself up to the roof of the Golden Hall and stared out at the sky, at the Gates of Heaven forever shut for me. _False hope_. Michael’s voice whispered to me as I stood and stared.

“Father are you even listening anymore?” I asked and, as I knew I would, received no reply. “You promised, you said I wouldn’t lose you but where are you now? Do you even _care_?” The words spilled out before I could censor them. Father _had_ cared, I knew that. One could not easily forget his love. Did that mean he _still_ cared? Surely if he did then he would do something, anything? “Forgive me, Father, please,” I begged the sky knowing full well that there was no forgiveness to be had. After all, I hadn’t learned my lesson; I tried to justify what I had done and now I was too tired to even feel guilty about it anymore. I killed a man, in cold blood, but he had killed first. Was this my fate? Was I to be the killer of killers?

“You made me promise. You said I shouldn’t let them talk me into doing something I know is wrong.” I said not sure if I was speaking still to Father or just airing the ache in my heart. “But they aren’t the ones to blame for this, are they? Odin is trying to help me.” A flicker of movement distracted me and I watched as two dark shapes winged closer, sharp against the brilliant blue of the sky.

Huginn and Muninn, Odin’s ravens, were back from gathering information about the world for their master. They circled once, calling out in greeting, before dropping out of sight behind the Golden Hall. 

“I’m tired,” I said once the ravens had vanished. “I’m tired and confused and I feel like every emotion has been drained right out of my body. I feel as if I could lie down and sleep forever,” I swallowed, “What’s the point anymore? You’re gone, I don’t even know if you’re listening and even if you are you’ve made it perfectly clear that I’m not repentant enough for forgiveness.” A thought struck me, a whisper of an idea that sent a frisson of terror as well as a glimmer of hope rushing through my grace. “Would you even intervene?” I wondered out loud, “if I took my blade and ran myself through right now, would you even _notice_?”

The world seemed to still. As if it took a deep breath waiting to see what I would do next. A blade dropped into my palm, it had been centuries upon centuries since I had last held it. Not since… not since Sodom and Gomorrah. Those cities that had started it all. I stared down at the silver blade, not really seeing it, instead seeing the flash of blood, the twisted expressions of pain. I had done that and I had done worse.

It would be so easy, I thought in that moment, just to turn the blade. Just a few inches, then I could slide it into my belly. A slow death for an angel but a guaranteed one, unless a healer came to my rescue and none would. I could lie here and watch the sunset and die and then it would all just… end.  
“What would you be more disappointed in me for? Killing that man, almost killing Michael… or killing myself?” I asked.

No one answered.

I didn’t kill myself that day. I don’t know why. Maybe it was _because_ no one answered. Maybe it was because I could have bled out on that roof and no one would have known until I was already gone. It sounded selfish when I thought of it like that, that I didn’t kill myself because I wouldn’t get any attention for it but I honestly couldn’t think of any other reason why I wanted to cling to life. What else was there after all? A message I promised to deliver? Why? I wasn’t Father’s Messenger anymore, I was a sinner and I was unforgiven. For Odin who asked me to do worse and worse things in the name of helping people? For Sigyn and the others who flinched further and further from me? What exactly was the point in me being here? 

When Odin asked me to teach a man a fatal lesson I wasn’t even surprised. He was another murderer; this time taking children off the streets for his sick games before killing them. He didn’t deserve to live.

He suffered before he died as a message to anyone who thought to try such a thing against the children under Odin’s protection. He suffered and he screamed and I stood there, watching, numb and cold.

Once it was over I felt something bubbling up in my chest. I thought for a minute it was guilt and anguish and pain as it had been last time. I thought for a minute I was going to be caught up in memories of those two cities. Then I stood, confused, as the bubbling sensation escaped and I found myself laughing. I don’t know why I laughed. There was nothing funny about this. Ironic, perhaps, given how the man had died – strung up like the puppets he used to lure children away. Not funny.

I laughed anyway and I watched as the wariness in my friends’ eyes turned to outright fear and hatred.

Odin sat on his throne, stroking Huginn’s head as Muninn preened, and watched with his single eye. A king, triumphant.

He had won.

He had taken me and moulded me as he wished. He had turned an archangel, the Lord’s Messenger, and a light-hearted Trickster into a weapon.

It was fitting then that it was just three days later that I discovered what he had done.

“Lord Loki! _Lord Loki!_ ” A woman’s cry followed me as I walked the town, still futilely looking for some glimmer of light among the shadows even if I knew I could not see it even if it existed. I paused and watched a woman hurrying to approach me. Her clothes, I noted, had been good once but her fortunes had clearly soured for now they were little better than rags.

“What do you want?” I asked as the woman fell to her knees in supplication.

“My Lord, I beg of you, have mercy!” She pleaded, “You have taken my husband for his crimes but please, please his children should not pay for them also!” I frowned, having no idea what the woman was talking about. Rather than question her I reached instead into her mind. It didn’t take long to find what I needed.

This woman… she was the man’s wife. The man who had been accused of beating and killing his wife and his lovers, the man I had murdered. Yet here was his wife, struck with misfortune yes, but hale and definitely not dead. A wife, I noted, struggling to care for three children without a father and with the mark of someone who had angered the gods.

Odin had lied to me.

_Odin had lied to me._

The man had been innocent. He had no lovers, had not beaten anyone. He was a scapegoat and a trap and one I had fallen into.

The cry of a raven brought my head up, eyes snapping away from the weeping woman. Two pairs of glittering black eyes watched me from the roof of a nearby house. Huginn and Muninn. Odin’s spies.

_**“I should have dealt with this myself.”**  
Before anyone could even think to speak Michel drew his sword and slew the child without a thought._

_**“Whatever happens the gates will stand open for you.”**  
“If you believe you will ever enter through the Gates of Heaven again you are a fool.”_

_**“If you learn from your mistakes we will always forgive you.”**  
“If you learn and grow from your mistakes then I will always forgive you.”_

_**“Some people never learn”**  
“Michael and Raphael will not open themselves to learn.”_

_**“I miss your smiles”**  
“I have not seen you smile like that in a long time”_

_**“Let me find you a purpose”**  
“You are sad and lonely and a failure, wandering without purpose”_

 

How long had he been spying on me? How long had he been listening into conversations, watching my every move? How could he know things that happened long before he came into existence? Most importantly _why?_ Why had he done this?

I left the woman in the street and turned back to the Golden Hall and towards the pagan I had called my brother.

I wanted to be angry, I wanted to burn ice cold with hatred like I had against Michael.

I felt nothing.

After all, they were right in the end. What was I other than a sinner? What purpose did I have? What reason to smile? The gates would not open and there was no one left to forgive me. What did I have left?

“Loki!” Odin started cheerfully but his smile faded rapidly as he caught sight of my face.

“Why?” I asked. It felt as though my voice was disconnected from my body. “Why Odin? You were my brother,” Odin’s expression went from cheerful to wary to recognition and right into calculating. Odin, I realised, didn’t hate me. That was not why he had done this. He did not hate me and he did not love me either. I was nothing to him. A tool to be used and thrown away once the job was finished. What that job was I didn’t know.

“Brother?” Odin snorted, “No Loki, you were never my brother. You aren’t even one of us.” He stood, Gungnir in his hand and one of the ravens on his shoulder. He looked like a king in that moment but more than that he looked, to my eyes, like one of the arrogant sinners he had arranged to suffer from my particular brand of lessons.

“What am I then? Why do this?” I asked quietly a plan already turning over in my mind.

“You are an angel,” Odin answered, “The one they call Gabriel. You are a liar and cheat. You come into our home and use us to our own ends, returning to your _real_ family with information on how to destroy us. You, _Loki_ , are a spy and a…”

“Trickster?” I cut in taking a step forward. “If I remember correctly _you_ were the one to give me that title. Don’t try to lie to me now Odin, you don’t believe a word of what you’re saying. You after all have been spying on me with your ravens; you know full well that I am barred from Heaven, disowned and cast out. Now,” I stepped forward again and summoning up the weight of my grace. Odin was a powerful pagan but he was not me. Not by a long shot. “Tell me _why_ or I will tear it out of your mind myself,” Odin seemed to consider it for a moment, his single eye flicking around the room at the other Aesir. He caught Thor’s gaze and I knew what was coming next before Odin’s eldest even started to move.

I spun at the very last minute, caught Mjolnir with one hand and Thor’s throat with the other.

“That was a foolish thing to do,” I informed the man who had been my friend. I tightened my grip around his throat, tore the hammer from his hand and then threw him bodily across the room, crashing directly into Heimdall and Frey who had been going for their own weapons. The Aesir stepped forward, ready to defend their king and their hero but I raised my fingers and snapped, just once. They froze, unable to move. I turned back to Odin. Mjolnir hit the ground with a ringing thud.

“Nice try,” I informed him, “Now I believe I asked you a question,”

Odin glared but did not answer.

I stepped forward again until I was in his personal space, he refused to back down which was good for me. I grabbed onto Grungir and dragged him close, pressing my free hand to his face and meeting his single eye with my own.

I tore into his mind, with no care for delicacy or avoiding damage. I simply hunted down what I needed to know.

I saw our first meeting through Odin’s eyes, the burning curiosity and the awareness that I was something more. I saw him, after I left; making the long trek to Mimir’s well, of gazing into it and asking for information on me. I saw him watch my life in fragments, enough that he could use it. I saw him learn my chosen name long before I had chosen it and I saw him make the connection.

“Ragnarók,” I spat, disgusted and let go of Odin. He fell backwards, stumbling from the weight of my assault. “That’s it? Everything I have become, everything you have tricked me into doing. It was all some sick and twisted plan for _Ragnarók?_ ”

“It is fate Loki,” Odin spat back, “A destiny none of us can escape,”

“I hate to break it to you _brother_ , but Ragnarók? Is a load of bollocks,” I sneered, “You’re not stupid enough to fall for your own hype, you’re well aware what pagans are, what _you_ are. The Apocalypse will be brought about by my Father when he is good and ready.”

“That’s not what the oracle says,” Odin scoffed.

“Oracles live to make bullshit prophecies, it’s how they make a living,” I scoffed. “And just so you know? If you come across someone whose supposed to bring about the end of the world, betraying their trust and manipulating them? Not the best way to go,”

“What does it matter, you would bring about Ragnarók whatever path I chose,” Odin replied. “Is that not what you’re doing now?”

“Now?” I laughed cold and hard and bitter, “Oh Odin, you have _no_ idea what I’m doing right now.” I knelt down so I was hovering over Odin’s fallen form and smiled cruelly. “I’m not going to start Ragnarók, not right now. After all you have a lesson to learn and I _am_ the Trickster,”

The look in Odin’s eyes was the same as the look in Michael’s eyes as I refused to kill him. All anger and hatred and fear. That was okay, in fact that made the next part even easier to do.

First I reached up and I placed my hand over his missing eye.

“I take your wisdom, Odin son of Bor,” I whispered to him and healed his eye, sold in a trade to give him wisdom beyond others. Odin gasped, his new eye blinking with tears at the sudden return of his vision. Then I reached once more for his temple. “I take your knowledge,” I breathed and reached out stealing away key information. The location of Mimir’s well, anything about my identity as an angel, crucial parts of the Edda. “I take your security,” I said and this time I did nothing, I simply pressed my hand against his chest and made it pulse with my grace. Odin’s eyes widened with terror and I knew he would do more to himself in the belief I had cursed him than a curse would actually do. “And now, Odin, you will wait. You will wait and you will watch this kingdom you have built for yourself crumple as time marches inexhaustibly onwards. There will be no glorious battle, no heroic tale for the collapse of Asgard. Just the slow fading of a society doomed the moment the Christian missionaries make their way here.” I stood then, staring down at Odin and smiled. “You’ll waste away Odin, praying for Ragnarók and it will not come. Not until all you have built is ash around you and _I_ decide to take pity on you. And when I do, finally, end you then you will know that you should never have tried to trick Loki, the King of Tricksters,”

I turned my back on Odin, a snap of my fingers obliterated any knowledge of me being an angel from the minds of the Aesir as well as releasing them from my hold. Then I was gone.

 

Once again I had lost my family. Once again I had lost my home.

How did the saying go? Once burned, twice shy?

I would not make the same mistake again.

I was homeless. I had no family.

I was not an angel, nor a brother, nor a god.

 

I was, and always would be, a Trickster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will probably be a short epilogue to this story but more importantly there will be a much shorter Cas-centric sequel soon so keep an eye out for that.


	7. Epilogue

This is how the story ends.

 

As I promised Odin time marched inexhaustibly onwards.

I didn’t look back; there was nothing to look back to.

I learned that if you laugh long and hard enough at death then death itself starts to become funny. I lost count of the number of people, human and pagan and creature, who learned very pointed, very painful lessons at my hand. I stopped praying to my Father, first for forgiveness then then for anything. I delivered the message to the Prophet Muhammad as requested but that was it, no more. I would have nothing more to do with Heaven, nothing more to do with what I had once been.

I was the Trickster. Occasionally, when I needed a name, I was Loki.

Never Gabriel.

Never again.

Then more than a millennium after leaving Asgard, many thousands of years after leaving Heaven the world ended. Two boys were born, brothers, perfect vessels for Michael and for Lucifer. I watched them from a distance, and then I watched them up close and let them think they had killed me. I watched them and saw my own brothers and thousands upon thousands of years of pain returned in an instant. I watched as they struggled, watched as they fell, watched as between them they released the first and last seals on a cage that had been locked for a very good reason.

Lucifer walked the Earth once more.

I watched the destruction, watched the signs of the Apocalypse with apathy. I didn’t care anymore. I just wanted it to be over. I wanted to give into the bone deep exhaustion that dragged my wings down day after day; just endless, endless living. I wanted to lay down and sleep and never get up again. I didn’t want to see the host go to war again, not when it felt so pointless, two toddlers fighting over a favourite toy and breaking it in the process. Yet I knew it couldn’t be stopped, not now. Better that we just got it over with. When Heaven won (I didn’t believe for a second Michael wouldn’t triumph over Lucifer eventually) then Paradise would be ushered in. I wouldn’t be allowed into said paradise but that was alright. I could just lay down and finally, finally sleep.

Unfortunately it wasn’t that easy.

  
_“Gabriel, they call me Gabriel,”_

_“This isn’t some prize fight between your brothers; this is_ you _being too afraid to stand up to your family,”_  


I didn’t choose the Winchesters because I thought we could stop it. No, I knew too well the lengths that those who believe in Fate would go to in order to see it done. I didn’t choose the Winchesters because I thought I could kill my brothers. No, I could not kill Michael in the heat of the moment with every reason in the world to finish it and enough anger in my heart that it would have been easy. There was little chance I could kill either one of them now, broken and exhausted and bitter. I didn’t have the energy or the passion to do it.

I chose the Winchesters because they were _right_. I chose the Winchesters because I looked at them and saw for the first time in millennia, light. I saw two humans fighting against the darkness with everything they had in them and the darkness was winning but these men, these hunters, they would not give in until they were broken. I saw, for the first time in far too long, hope.

I had struggled in the darkness for so long it almost blinded me to look at the light now but I looked anyway.

I entered the hotel after Dean, after Lucifer, a DVD clenched in my hand and I knew.

I was a sinner, and sinners in the end always look for redemption.

I remembered the words I had given my Father so long ago.

_“I would be the light, if I could. Or perhaps I would be the one holding the light for then I would not be forced to stand and wait for them to struggle down the path to me but I could go to them and lead them out of the dark,”_

I had lost my light, but I could offer the Winchesters fuel for theirs. I could offer fuel to keep their light burning against the darkness, as a beacon for all us poor lost souls, a little longer.

 

That would be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The epilogue as promised.
> 
> For everyone who didn't ask the title of this fic 'Tov V'ra' is a transliteration of the Hebrew טוֹב וָרָע which means 'good and evil' specifically in reference to the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.


End file.
